Wrath of Merlin
by O'Shea
Summary: Deep within the Department of Mysteries, a clandestine unit dedicates itself to the destruction of Voldemort's surviving forces in the aftermath of the Wizarding War. This group, lead by Harry Potter, does not officially exist. But for those who fight the darkness that threatens to engulf their world, it has a name, heard only in the shadows: Operation Wrath of Merlin.
1. The Hunt

What happened to Voldemort's surviving forces after the Battle of Hogwarts? From this question, _Wrath of Merlin_ was born.

The story I write is a gritty and realistic portrayal of Wizarding Britain struggling to survive in the aftermath of the war. The ensuing conflict is bloody, brutal, and dangerous, hence the M rating. This is not a story for the faint of heart, and those with a distaste for violence will not find _Wrath of Merlin _to their liking. But if your interest is piqued, then you'll enjoy this story. So, without further ado, I present:

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><p><strong>WRATH OF MERLIN<strong>

_a Harry & Ginny story_

–

**I. The Hunt**

_Ginny_

I don't know why he left.

I remember him at the memorial service for those who had fallen. He stared blankly ahead, not speaking, barely breathing. Hands clenched into tight fists when he got up to speak. McGonagall and Kingsley had insisted. And Harry, always giving, had relented.

_I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry._

Those were the only words he'd spoken before walking out of the temporarily repaired Great Hall, the massive doors opening with a wordless command from the gaunt figure that stepped out into the torrential rain…

…and then disappeared from my life.

And everyone else's.

We know he must have gone to Grimmauld Place at some point, because three days after he left Hogwarts, all of Sirius' remaining possessions were quietly deposited into the Potter vault.

A fortnight later, Snape's body had disappeared, replaced with a portrait of the former Potions Master and a letter explaining Snape's story.

His only piece of correspondence since he'd left - I don't want to use the word 'last.'

But he didn't return. He wasn't there for my birthday, he wasn't there to see me off for my final year at Hogwarts.

No one in the Wizarding World knows where he is.

The _Daily Prophet_ has a thousand galleon reward for any information leading to his whereabouts, but all the sightings are nothing more than false hope.

If Harry wants to be hidden, then not even Death can find him.

And now it's November, only weeks before we take the Hogwarts Express back to King's Cross for Christmas.

It's hard walking through corridors, and learning in classrooms that you know people gave their lives to defend.

People like Colin Creevy, Remus Lupin, Tonks...and people like Fred.

His death hurts the most. I know that George is in more pain than what he shows. But none of us can begin to comprehend it. The bond between them was…something else. They use to joke about sharing a wedding ceremony.

But George doesn't joke anymore.

Just another thing that Voldemort took from us.

But now Harry was gone too.

I'd changed with his departure. After the shock, the tears, and Kingsley's admission that the Aurors couldn't find him, (they'd been searching for months) I'd lost whatever it was that made me happy. I felt hollow, like an empty shell of a human being.

I knew my friends worried about me, especially Luna, and Hermione, whenever she visited school. I don't know how Hermione managed. She spent half her time at Hogwarts studying for her NEWTS with me, and the other half working for the Ministry. I wondered where she was. She was meant to be helping me with the bloody essay I was working on.

Forcing thoughts of Harry from my mind, I went back to my parchment.

"Hey Ginny?"

I looked up from my work at the sixth year boy from Ravenclaw.

"Um, I was wondering…um, do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

"No," I replied, disinterested.

"Oh."

I went back to my work, and he got the message, leaving quickly.

I wasn't some trophy. I didn't want to go to Hogshead with a boy who would boast to his friends how he was dating _Ginny Weasley, Quidditch Captain, war hero...and total babe._

I scrawled a few more sentences down on the parchment. When I only had four inches to go, my stomach decided that dinner was in order.

I made my way to the Great Hall to find Hermione and Ron sitting in the middle of a crowd of admiring faces at the Gryffindor table.

Despite their presence, dinner was unpleasant. Not only did they constantly remind me of the missing member of our extended trio, but Hermione knew something, and kept shooting concerned looks in my direction. Ron just shoved food into his mouth.

Pig.

By Ron's third helping of pudding, most of the students had left. Hermione cleared her throat rather deliberately.

"Ginny, I have news, but I'm not sure if you-"

"Of course I want to hear!" I said angrily.

Hermione's mouth opened in shock. She hadn't deserved my outburst. I immediately regretted it.

"Sorry," I sighed.

She gave me a sad smile before continuing.

"We…the Ministry, we found him."

I couldn't believe it. They'd found him.

"Where?" I asked in a whisper.

"We don't know where he is now, but he was in Godric's Hollow two days ago," Hermione said.

"Aurors reckon that he's gone east. They say he's probably in Europe, but we can't be certain. He's better at hiding than the lot of them put together," Ron added somberly.

"Do you know for certain that it was him?"

"It definitely was," Ron chuckled. "The Auror who saw him is in St Mungo's now."

Hermione smiled despite herself. "At least one thing hasn't changed. Harry still hates the Ministry interfering with his life."

I shoved my spoon around my plate, and Hermione had the tact to change the subject.

"Come to Hogsmeade with us on Saturday!" she insisted with a warm smile.

Reluctantly, I agreed, knowing that if I didn't; Hermione would get more worried and end up writing to my mother.

And that was something I wanted to avoid even more than a trip to Hogsmeade.

Following dinner, and trying my best to avoid the painfully obvious looks Hermione and Ron were giving each other, I headed to my dormitory. Getting into bed, I cast a habitual glance at the picture of the two of us on my beside table. Except he wasn't in it anymore.

He'd walked out of that, too.

My lower lip trembled. I'd missed him more today than I had in a while. The upcoming Hogsmeade visit had only worsened my mood. It had reminded me of happier times, going to the Three Broomsticks with his hand in mine…

The memories overwhelmed me and the tears fell freely, my body heaving with raking sobs as I hugged my legs to my chest.

In the war, I had experienced the Cruciatus at the hands of the Carrows. I knew what pain was like.

But the Cruciatus had nothing on this.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

_Run._

I sped through the trees in pursuit. I was going to catch the bastard, and he didn't have a chance in hell of escape. I had confidence borne from skill, honed in training for this very moment.

"_Not even the Aurors can know. Harry, from now own, you can have no contact with anyone. Not at all. Do you understand?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Not even Ginny."_

"_...yes."_

"_Then welcome to Operation Wrath of Merlin."_

Operation Wrath of Merlin.

Covert, top secret, whatever you cared to call it. Black budget. More levels of _classified_ than the Department of Mysteries and Magical Law Enforcement combined.

It existed for one simple goal: find and kill the remnants of Voldemort's armies.

Of course, officially, it did not exist.

After the Final Battle, we discovered that the forces of Voldemort were more extensive than initially realised. About a third had taken part in the attack of Hogwarts itself - Voldemort was too intelligent a tactician to commit his entire force, and why would he need it? He was attacking a school, not a fortress.

He hadn't counted on Dumbledore's Army. He hadn't counted on the Elder Wand. He hadn't counted on me.

We reckoned another third gave up, came out of hiding and handed themselves over for trial in the hopes of a lighter sentence.

But that final third went underground, much like we had in the war.

The final third still wanted me dead.

So we hunted them.

Only five wizards alive knew about _Wrath of Merlin._

Kingsley had recruited me. Not that he could join himself - he had been appointed Minister for Magic by the Wizengamot. His Auror days were over.

Two Unspeakables, codenamed X and Y - I didn't even know their real names - trained me to fight the Dark Arts in a way Hogwarts could not.

Arcane magic, forces that I never want to deal with again were the norm in the Department of Mysteries_. _I learned to use them, to embrace the knowledge and power contained within those bleak stone walls.

I got a month-long crash course in combat magic that taught me more than three years of Auror training possibly could.

And it was there I learned how to kill.

I had been prepared to kill Voldemort. That the Elder Wand did it for me made no difference. It was a means to an end.

But in the Department of Mysteries, I became death itself. The war was the end of my childhood, but it was here I became a man.

I no longer recognised myself in the mirror. Sure, I still looked like me, with the uncontrollable hair, my Mother's eyes, and the lightning scar, but I wasn't the same person.

"_Only for as long as Wrath of Merlin continues. A year, tops. We won't ask you to do this forever."_

I understood why it had to be me, and why I had to leave.

If everyone knew were I was, I would become a target. My friends would become targets.

Nowhere was safe with me.

But if I was a shadow, my location unknown to virtually everyone, then I could strike fear into the hearts of those who wanted to destroy me.

Kingsley summed it up quite nicely:

"_You can't plan and carry out a Dark Magic attack when you're too busy looking over your shoulder in fear that Harry Potter will be there."_

Along with Arthur Weasley, the five of us made up Operation Wrath of Merlin.

I felt worse for Arthur. He was forced to lie through his teeth to his entire family.

But it came with the territory. Arthur had been named Deputy Minister for Magic, a roll which he took on with great reluctance, but again knowing, that he, like Kingsley, was the best person for the job in the trying days after the war.

_Focus._

The wizard I was chasing after had killed innocents in the war. He practiced a particular branch of revivalist Dark Magic - simply put, human sacrifice to bring back the dead. Voldemort had prized that sort of special skill.

But I was about to teach him a rule: death is intended to be permanent.

_Wait._

I couldn't see him anymore. He hadn't used magic to hide, that would only serve to pinpoint his location.

I pulled out my Invisibility Cloak, and cast a non-verbal silencing charm, also levitating myself two feet from the ground for good measure.

"_Harry?"_

It was X, sitting at a desk, thousands of miles away, but I could hear him through the headset fitted to my ear.

"_Yes?"_ I replied.

"_He's about 20 feet in front of you."_

I didn't reply. X was a man of few words, so conversation was implicitly discouraged. Instead, I moved slowly closer to the wizard's hiding position.

I saw him burrowed into the undergrowth, beneath a massive oak.

This was too easy.

I returned to the ground, my feet catlike in their movement. Stealth was essential. Another lesson in my time at the Department of Mysteries.

I disarmed him silently. His wand flew towards me, and with a flick of my own wand, it shattered into mere, useless splinters.

I removed the Cloak, my face hidden in shadow.

"Please…" His voice was a hollow whisper.

I had to remind myself why I was doing this, why he deserved this fate.

"You slaughtered entire families in your experiments. You deserve to die."

My voice was not my own.

"I...no, please!" he pleaded as I aimed my wand.

Remember Cedric Diggory. Remember Colin Creevy. Remember Fred.

"Avada Kedavra."

And then he was no more.

I hated the green flash of light.

But the evil that still threatened us? I hated that more.


	2. The Empire of the Dead

**Author's Note: **Thank you to all those who reviewed so far, or have added it to story alert. It's really appreciated, and certainly gives me motivation to finish and upload chapters faster.

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><p><strong>II. The Empire of the Dead<strong>

_Harry_

I returned to my rooms deep underground London, in the Department of Mysteries. The rooms weren't particularly fancy, but they served a purpose. They kept me hidden.

I sprawled out on my bed, and flicked on the wireless.

"_...and now we return for the evening Ministry Report. Minister Shacklebolt made headlines today when he disclosed to the Wizengamot that there were still credible threats to Wizarding Britain. When grilled for details, both the Minister, and Deputy Minister Weasley gave answers, that to this reporter, didn't really answer anything. Also on the table was the issue of the war trials - with growing numbers each day clamouring for justice do be brought about, the Ministry is again under great pressure. The Minister, clearly stressed, stated that those suspected of being Death Eaters could rot in Azkaban for all he cared, but he did reiterate that proper justice would be served in time, and that ensuring the safety and security, as well as putting in place measures to aid recovery, was more important at this time…"_

Leaving the wireless droning in the background, I got up again at the sound of a bell. That would be Kingsley. He'd want to debrief me on the mission.

"X told me it went well."

"Yeah, it was...quick."

He nodded. "I know you don't like-"

I cut him off. "Yeah, I don't. But we all have to do our part, right?"

He sat down.

"I miss her," I blurted out.

A pitying expression crossed his face.

"You and Ginny Weasley were very close. It's killing Arthur that he has to lie to her."

"I know how he feels," I said bitterly.

"It won't be forever, Harry. She'll understand, in time."

"Ha, you're not the one who has to tell her. Have you _met_ Ginny?"

Kingsley smirked again.

"Why can't we hold the trials?" I asked, changing the subject. I didn't want to talk about _her_ anymore.

"Recovery efforts…"

"No, the real reason."

He grinned. "Well, for one, we want you to testify...and you'll be doing a lot of testifying."

I made a face.

Kingsley let out a rich laugh. "Ah, the joys of being a war hero...at least you don't have to do paperwork."

"So until this is over, you'll delay all the trials?"

"Yes. And what I say to the press is true too - we are trying to bring about reforms. Arthur's just finished setting up the Reform Bureau, and your friend Granger may be put it charge."

"Hermione? Really?"

"The girl is frighteningly intelligent, and she's new blood - old thinking won't help us. We need new ideas."

Listening to his words, I was reminded why Kingsley commanded such respect, and why he was made Minister.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

It was about a week after Ron and Hermione's visit to Hogwarts. I trudged down to breakfast, still moody.

The usual bustling atmosphere in the Great Hall had disappeared. A small shiver went down my back. It reminded me of Snape's reign over the school.

The cause for the hushed words and murmurs was written all over the front page of the _Daily Prophet._

_RESURGENT DEATH EATERS VOW TO CONTINUE YOU-KNOW-WHO'S LEGACY._

I quickly scanned through the words.

_Claim that Voldemort will be reborn in the blood of The Chosen One … and that a third Reign of Terror will begin…To hit us whilst we're struggling to recover… Ministry say Aurors are looking into the threats…we must remain strong in the face of horror… is this why Harry Potter has disappeared? Is he afraid?_

I flicked over the page.

_HARRY POTTER, WHEREVER YOU ARE, WE NEED YOU._

_Reward offered for reputable and recorded sightings of Harry Potter. See below for terms and conditions._

I closed the paper in disgust. They wouldn't find him. He had an invisibility cloak that could hide him from Death itself.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was my first subject of the day. It was being taught by an Auror - 'Professor' Wright.

"Today, we're going to discuss this morning's news," she said, gesturing to the projected image of the _Prophet's _front page.

"I understand that many of you will be shaken up by the threats, and I was asked by both Professor McGonagall and Minister Shacklebolt to assure you that Hogwarts will be safe. You are also welcome to talk to Madam Pomfrey if you wish."

"What about our families?" a Hufflepuff student asked.

"We cannot guarantee the safety of every single person in Britain. This is a reality of Magical Law Enforcement. Believe me, no one hates hearing this more than the Aurors."

"Do you think you'll find Harry?" another said.

"We hope to."

This was useless. I didn't have anything against her teaching, hell, anything was better than the Carrows, but her politically evasive, and probably scripted answers didn't help. Especially since they reminded me of Umbridge.

The lesson went on, with 'revision' of Advanced Shield Charms that we'd all mastered with the D.A. last year.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I'd made a habit of flicking through the Prophet each morning, but I didn't expect to see _that _particular headline.

_HARRY POTTER, WHEREVER YOU ARE, WE NEED YOU._

Sometimes, the _Daily Prophet_ just needed to learn when to shut up.

We knew, of course, about the Death Eaters.

Voldemort couldn't be brought back - that was an impossibility. The one advantage of the Horcruxes was that they insured that.

The problem was, we didn't know where they were. Up to now, they'd been as quiet as the grave.

But if they were going 'public' - so to speak, then I knew that it was only a matter of time.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

Hermione was back, and looking stressed. Small wonder - she was taking her NEWTS away from Hogwarts, whilst helping the Ministry do Merlin-knows-what. Ron wasn't with her - he was looking after Weasley's Wizard Wheezes whilst George was in St Mungo's.

George hadn't taken Fred's death well. In fact, it'd damn near driven him crazy with grief, to the point where we were forced to take him to St Mungo's. To the closed ward with Neville's parents. It'd nearly killed my parents to do it, but it was the only way of guaranteeing his safety.

He hadn't even been able to set foot in the Burrow without collapsing into sobs, and the mere sight of his and Fred's old room had sent him into hysterics.

At his worse, the Healers had nearly overdosed him on Cheering Charms before he'd stopped screaming.

It almost felt like we'd lost both of them.

I walked over to her, and she gave me a quick hug.

"Ginny, your Mum was wondering if you could come home on Saturday. It was sort of a last-minute thing, so she asked me to ask you."

"Yeah, why?"

"Everyone's going to St Mungo's, and she wants you to be there."

Her eyes were compassionate, and once again the thought crossed my mind that Ron might be the luckiest wizard alive.

I flashed a quick smile. "Tell her I'll be there for breakfast."

I Flooed home to The Burrow the next day. Angelina was there, and so was Hermione, laughing at a joke of Ron's. Dad was already at the Ministry, but Mum, bustling past with a plate full of bacon, assured me he'd meet us at the hospital.

I talked with Angelina about Quidditch to pass the time, and after breakfast, we piled into a Ministry car (a _Rolls Royce, _Dad had mentioned proudly) for the trip to London.

I guess there were some advantages of being the family of the Deputy Minister for Magic.

The trip to London flashed by, and soon we reached Purge and Dowse, Ltd - the department store in which St Mungo's was concealed, and went inside. Mum spoke briefly to the receptionist, and we made our way up to level four. To the closed ward.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"Harry?" Y strode into my rooms, not bothering to knock.

"Yeah?"

"Pack your bags. We're leaving."

"Where to?"

"France."

"When are we going?"

"Ten minutes ago. Hurry!"

As I packed, Y explained to me that we'd gotten a lead that Kingsley had deemed top priority. At best, we'd find Death Eaters hiding in France.

I finished packing, and Y and I made our way to X's office. X was there with Arthur.

"Good luck," said Arthur, before handing X a Portkey. "Quickly, it'll go any second now."

I felt the now familiar tug, and the last thing I saw before everything blurred around me was Arthur's greying hair and the worried lines on his weathered face.

We landed on a hill, and then Apparated (I Side-Alonged with Y) into the city itself.

"Welcome to Paris, Harry."

Paris was beautiful.

I said so, and Y grinned. "Wait until you see Wizarding Paris. Diagon Alley is all right, but _rue Magique_, well, it's something else."

"We're not going to rue Magique, gentlemen," said X, sourly.

"X isn't a fan of rue Magique...or rather it's inhabitants," Y explained slyly.

"Shut it, Y."

"The girl seemed perfectly friendly to me. Who would've thought that a day later, she'd be trying to-"

"I said shut it."

"Where are we going then?" I asked.

"Down. To _l'empire de la mort. _The Empire of the Dead."

"Those are the catacombs, right?"

"Yeah."

The mission was simple. Five Death Eaters in hiding, all here in Paris. It wouldn't be easy, and I didn't know Paris - which was why this was a three-man mission. The catacombs underneath the city were also the perfect refuge.

Fortunately, my companions had both been to Paris before...

"Go to the Louvre, and Vanish the security glass around the _Mona Lisa. _Most entertaining afternoon a wizard can have," Y smirked as we walked.

X shot him a look that spoke volumes. "Of all the Unspeakables in the Ministry to join this, Kingsley chose you."

"Just because a bloke likes to have a laugh before he goes about knocking off Death Eaters in the sewers of Paris, doesn't mean he's not professional about it."

We rounded a corner and took off down a side street. Embedded in the ground was a large manhole. X cast Shielding and Muggle Repelling Charms whilst Y levitated the manhole cover off. Surprisingly, it didn't stink.

"This part isn't connected to any sewer, and it's a popular entrance for wizards, so it's well maintained."

"Well then, in we go." X lowered himself down, and Y and I followed.

_Lumos._

The tunnel was larger than I had expected, and walking was quite easy. We went along for about twenty minutes before coming into a natural cavern. Skeletal remnants were packed tightly into the walls, the empty eye sockets of skulls grimly staring at me, silently accusing me of violating their resting place.

"Adorable," said Y in a hushed tone.

A trickle of water ran across the floor. We moved on past the bones, into a space with roughly hewn walls that seemed to compress in on me.

Instinctively, I shuddered. This was not a place for the living.

We'd been walking, and sometimes crawling through the underground for about an hour, when we came across the first sign of magical presence.

"Feel that?" asked X. "It's a ward. Pretty crude defensively, but spelled to let the caster know if it's broken."

"It'll be easier to key us into the ward," said Y.

X nodded, and muttering, waved his wand, and tapped me, Y and then himself. A purple haze glowed briefly around us, then disappeared.

"Right, we should be good. Y, you do the best Revealing Charms, take a look."

Y cast the spell, then put a finger to his lips. He then held up three fingers and pointed to his left.

_Quiet. Three people. To the left._

We split in a pincer movement, X going to the left, Y and myself centre and right respectively.

Suddenly, a man in a dirty grey robe appeared from the darkness, and flung a curse at X.

I watched as X competently shielded against the curse, then flicked his wand twice, muttering under his breath.

The first flick cut his opponent's wand arm _clean off_, and the second slit his throat. The attacker didn't even have time to scream.

The other two attackers had caught up now, and Y and I each turned to face one. My opponent raised his wand…

_Expelliarmus! _His wand clattered to the ground, and he turned to run, only to be stopped by my Full Body-Bind curse.I reached to turn him over but stopped as a thin jet on green light hit the man.

I looked up to see Y still pointing his wand at the body, his face expressionless.

"We don't have time to see if they're pretty, Harry. Come on."

Y knew how to crack a joke, and smile, but just like the more serious X, he certainly knew how to kill. The decapitated head of his own opponent was proof of that.

We moved deeper into the catacombs.

An hour later, we'd found nothing. We were soaked, smelt like the sewers, and covered in grime and limestone dust.

"Sorry to disappoint, gentlemen, but we won't be winning Teen Witch's Wizard of the Year in a hurry," Y quipped.

X just sighed and kept on going.

_"Arrêtez-vous!"_

X stopped, his wand out.

"We're English!" he shouted into the darkness.

A group of men came out from the pitch black tunnels and into the light.

One, who appeared to be the leader, looked at me.

"C'est vrai," he said, a hint of wonder in his voice. "'arry Potter. Come, 'e wants to see you."

X simply nodded, and gestured for us to accompany the group.

We gathered in single file, and Y leaned close to me. "They've seen the Death Eaters," he muttered.

We walked for another 15 minutes, before coming into an open space, lit with hundreds of lamps.

A large wooden door opened, and we walked into a vast room, similar to the Great Hall at Hogwarts. At least two hundred people stood or sat in small clusters around the Hall.

A man in light blue robes lounged on a seat, idly picking from a bowl of grapes. He looked up at our entrance with sharp eyes, and his mouth twisted into the semblance of a smirk.

"My, my, my...what do we 'ave 'ere?"

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

Seeing George in his bed was shocking. His eyes were wild, and his hair was matted and tangled. His wand arm was strapped by a leather cuff to the bed. Mum ran to him.

"Oh, George!"

His voice was low and hoarse.

"Mum...is everyone here?"

"Yes, look, Ginny's here too."

He looked over Mum's shoulder to see me.

"Heya, sis."

"Hey, how're you?"

He gestured to the strap on his wrist.

"Been...better."

"We're here for you, George."

"Yeah…"

I couldn't do it. I couldn't talk to him like this, trying to pretend that he was okay. He wasn't. And it was so very evident in every little detail, from the expression in his gaunt eyes, to the worn look on his sunken cheeks, and the false sincerity in his voice. All the sorrow I'd felt since the end of the war swelled up through me, and I couldn't take it. Not looking back, I ran from the room.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

It was the Parisian. The man who ran the magical catacombs. Dangerous. Unpredictable. French.

Y had warned we might come across him in the catacombs. He was the de facto leader of those in the magical community who lived underground. And of course, proud owner of the most original name in all of Paris, Y had joked.

"'arry Potter," he said in slow, drawling English. "It es a pleasure to meet you."

I remained silent.

"Ah, do not be scared, Meester Potter. I am your most 'umble servant, and I must welcome you to l'empire of zee Dead."

I nodded in greeting, noticing that X had cast a silent Revealing Charm through the vicinity.

"But of course, your exploits are legendary! I 'ave 'eard of 'ow you faced Voldemort. Most impressive!"

"Thank you. It wasn't easy."

"But of course."

X interrupted bluntly.

"The two Death Eaters you've got. We want them."

The Parisian glared at him.

"_Non. _I will not give zem t' you. 'ere, all are under my protection."

"They're war criminals."

"Zhey 'ave committed no crime to me." His eyes flashed. "You Breetish, thinking that you can jus' walk in, an' take!"

"Well, that was essentially the plan," Y quipped.

"You will need another plan. Here, I ask no questions. Ef a witch or a wizard wants my ah, sanctuary, I give et."

"Even to Death Eaters?"

"I will not go back on my word. Besides, you are not zee Breetish Ministry. I see no _authoritie _'ere."

"Papa?"

I turned my head to see a slender girl, no older than fifteen, enter the room. She reminded me very much of Gabrielle Delacour.

"Pas maintenant, Marie," the Parisian waved her off.

Before anyone could even think to stop him, Y crossed the room and grabbed the girl, Marie, pointing his wand underneath her chin. Her eyes widened in fear. All over the room, wands came out, pointed at us.

"DON'T MOVE!" Y yelled.

The Parisian rose from his seat, enraged.

"YOU GO TOO FAR!" He drew out his wand.

"I think we might want to ah, renegotiate," said X, speaking quickly, his wand aimed back. "You could have a thousand wands pointed at us, but it won't stop him from taking your daughter with us. The man who currently has your daughter at wandpoint is an Unspeakable."

A murmur of voices rose around the room.

"So, you are zee 'nglish Ministry then?" asked the Parisian, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"No. We don't exist to them. But we are real, very much so," he said, his voice threatening. "The Death Eaters, for the life of your innocent daughter. That is my deal."

"Papa!" Marie screamed.

I suddenly felt sick.

"So be et," he spat, looking disgusted. He nodded to a henchman, who barked orders in rapid French to a group, who turned and left.

"My daughter?" he appealed to X.

"Once I have the Death Eaters."

In a couple of tense minutes later, the Death Eaters were dragged unceremoniously into the room. One spat at X.

"Medrevitch. You wouldn't know where your brother is, would you?" Oh, and Doherty, too," X greeted them, before looking at Marie, who was still held by Y in a vice grip. "Close your eyes, girl."

"Do as 'e says, ma chérie," her father said.

X turned back to address the Death Eaters. "For your crimes in the war, and your association and loyalty to Tom Riddle, known also as Lord Voldemort, you are summarily sentenced to die."

All eyes were on X. The room was quiet as the grave.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

The brilliant green light flashed twice, and both Death Eaters toppled to the ground.

"Et es done. Let 'er go!" demanded the Parisian.

"Promise us safe passage," said Y.

"_Oui._ Promised."

Y released her, and she ran to her father. He held her tightly before glaring at us with baleful eyes.

"Now leave 'ere! You are welcome no more!"

X nodded. We went to go, with wands still pointed at us from all directions.

"An' what es your part in all of this, Meester Potter?" the Parisian questioned as I walked away.

I didn't look back to answer him. I honestly didn't know.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

Ron and Hermione found me in the Visitor's Hall. I was sitting on a couch, curled into a ball, with tear streaks stained down my face.

"Ginny?"

"Who's with him now?" I said numbly.

"Angelina. Mum's gone for tea," said Ron.

"Look, Ginny…," Hermione began.

"Just leave me alone, Hermione! I don't want to hear it!" I burst out.

"You can't sit around moping forever! You have to go on, live your life, regardless of whether he's there or not! Ever since June...it's December, Ginny. I don't think I've heard you laugh properly in eight months!

"You don't know, Hermione! You don't know!"

"My parents are still in Australia," she replied cooly. "I know."

Ron cut in.

"You're...I guess you're at a crossroads, sis. Way I see it, you can either end up like George, doped up in the closed ward, or deal with it, properly. 'Mione and me, we lost him too, remember."

"It's not the same! He and I are-" I stood angrily

"Are what, Ginny? Harry, whether he's here or not, he's still my best mate! I've got faith in him, that he'll return. Hell, I don't know when, but I know 'e will!"

He said it with such conviction, such heart, that my retort died on my tongue. I sat back down on the couch with tears in my eyes.

"I...I'm sorry." The tears were rolling down my cheeks and I made no effort to wipe them away. "I miss him, so much."

Ron's arms were around me in an instant, his voice soothing, followed by Hermione's as she put her arms around me too.

"We'll find him, Ginny. The Ministry obviously can't do it, but we can. We know him. We'll bring him back to you," Hermione said.

"Yeah?" I looked up at her, my eyes watery and my voice shaky.

"Yeah. I'll start asking questions. There are a lot of people who owe me favours. And of course, I'll have to visit the library…"

"Sounds like a proper plan," added Ron, grinning.

"It is, Ron. It is," Hermione assured, the determination clear in her voice.

And on the closed ward, surrounded by fear, hurt, and the wounded, but also my family and friends, I finally smiled.

After Flooing back to Hogwarts from St Mungos, I made my way back to my dormitory. My bed seemed very appealing right now. I pulled on an old shirt with 'Harry' on the nametag, and fell back onto my pillow. But I couldn't find a way to slip away into blissful sleep.

I sat up, and grabbed a quill and some parchment from my bedside cabinet, and began to write:

_Dear Harry,_

_My world's kind of crazy right now and there's nothing more I want than for you to put your arm around me and tell me it's going to be alright._

_I'd give anything - except maybe the England Quidditch captaincy - to have you with me, at this very moment._

_I need you, Harry. And I need for you understand that._

_I don't know why you had to leave everyone. I don't know why you had to leave me. But it's okay now, you don't have to explain anything, just come back and kiss me._

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

_Ginny_

_P.S. If you ever want to kiss me again, Potter, you'd better have one hell of an explanation._

And then, just like that, I was okay. I still missed him, I still needed him, but for now, I could live my life without him being there.

Hermione's proposed plan to find him gave me new courage, a new resolve.

It gave me back myself.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So, a sudden trip to Paris! The Empire of the Dead actually does exist – it's been around for centuries. I visited Paris a few years ago, and went and saw it, and I thought it'd make an excellent setting for this story.

Some quick translations, it'll save you having to Google them if you're wondering:

_rue Magique_ means essentially, 'Magic Street' in French, in case anyone is unsure. Original, I know.

_Pas maintenant _– not now

_ma chérie_ – dear one

__"Arrêtez-vous!"_ _- Stop! (sort of)

_C'est vrai_ – It is true

_Non. Oui. - _No. Yes.

Hope you enjoyed! Please review :)


	3. Christmas

A/N: Sorry about the time it's taken to update - I was going to get this chapter up a lot sooner, and then, I kid you not, there was a 6.3 magnitude earthquake where I just happen to live. Best excuse for a slow update ever?

I have a bit more free time now, so I should be able to get a couple more chapters up in the next fortnight though.

But, shaking aside, this chapter is of course, now up. I hope you enjoy it - and please review, it'd be great to get some more feedback.

* * *

><p><strong>III. Christmas<strong>

_Ginny_

I folded my letter to Harry into an envelope and tied it to the leg of one of the School Owls. I offered it a treat that I'd gotten from the kitchens, which it snatched up in it's beak.

"Harry Potter. It's for him."

The bird took flight, and I watched it fly from the window of the Owlery until it was a mere speck on the distant horizon.

I didn't know if the letter would get to Harry or not. And even if he did get the letter, would he reply?

I didn't know, but I had to try.

Feeling as if a weight had been taken off my chest, I made my way back to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

The attack had been quick.

Three dead, and six in critical condition at St Mungo's.

Nothing we could've done to prevent it.

That was the worst part, the feeling of helplessness.

Magical Law Enforcement were all over the scene when we arrived, X and Y in dark hooded robes, me under the Invisibility Cloak.

Three Hitwizards stood guard. As we approached, one gestured us to stop.

"State your name! Authorised Ministry officials only!"

"Our names are above your security clearance," said X flatly.

"What?" The second Hitwizard pointed his wand at X. "Who-"

"We're Level Nine," said Y in the same flat tone.

It is said that the Hitwizards and witches who are selected for Magical Law Enforcement each have a bed reserved at St Mungo's under their name at all times due to the many dangers of the work they do. Hence, one would assume that bravery is a prerequisite of the job.

However, faced with two Unspeakables, demonstrating their 'bravery' wasn't on the list of priorities.

"Oh, o-of course, r-right through, then," stammered the third Hitwizard.

X and Y swept past, and I could hear the hushed tones of the Hitwizards as I passed by with them.

"Unspeakables! Here! What in Merlin's name are they doing?"

"I don't know, and I sure don't want to know."

"Quiet, man, they could still be listening."

I smirked and pulled my attention back to X and Y, who was gloating:

"I enjoyed that far too much. Did you see his face when I said 'Level Nine'? Brilliant."

X just sighed.

The attack had taken place in a shop in a small all-wizarding community. Wands lit, X and Y began to inspect the ruined building. The handful of Aurors also at the scene ignored the two, presumably, they knew better than to talk to Unspeakables.

Two bodies lay still on the ground, covered in a golden haze. I stood clear as a witch in Healer's robes levitated one of the bodies out the door. X and Y looked over the scene for several minutes.

"Who's in charge here?" X directed the question to the room.

A couple of Aurors looked up in surprise.

"Er, Rogers, sir. She's in command," a young wizard answered.

"Is she here?"

"Last I saw her, she was out back," he said, pointing to a door.

Y nodded in gratitude and, with X and me in tow, went through to the back entrance, where a small tent with 'M.L.E.' written on the side was pitched. We went in, to see a large open space with a table centred in it. An attractive blonde witch with her hair pulled into a messy bun was pouring over a map on the table.

X cleared his throat and she looked up.

"I got pulled out of bed half an hour ago, and I'm not in the mood to deal with your lot. We don't need you," she said sharply, scowling.

"The Minister disagrees."

"What is Kingsley doing sending Unspeakables to an MLE job?" she demanded.

"You're Rogers, right?"

"Yes. Amy Rogers, I'm running this nightmare, and I wasn't told you'd be showing up."

"A terrible oversight, I'm sure," said Y, conjuring a chair and sitting down in it.

"Look here-"

"We need a copy of every single report on this attack," interjected X.

"You can't just walk in, and-"

"But we just_ did,_" Y pointed out.

She sighed.

"Fine. But on one condition," she replied, her eyes shrewd.

"What would that be?"

"Tell me why you're here. Unspeakables don't just walk in on any crime scene."

"If we told you that, love, then we wouldn't be Unspeakables, would we?" said Y.

She cracked a small grin. "Worth a shot."

"Where can we find you?" said X.

"I've got a small room in the Auror Office. Fourth on the left. I'll be in there all tomorrow. Reports should be in by then."

"Right."

"It's been a pleasure," said Y, lifting a hand in salute.

"Wait," she said, raising a hand. "This attack…do you think it's the Death Eaters? Is that why you're here?"

"We can't say anything," said X. Behind him, Y met her eyes and nodded.

We left, leaving the witch to her work.

"I'd quite like to sleep with her," Y said matter-of-factly, once we were out of earshot.

X just groaned.

* * *

><p>We returned to the Department of Mysteries, and where a massive map was plastered to the wall, X placed a black pin to mark the location of the attack.<p>

I gazed over the sprinkling of colours. A red pin meant known Death Eaters or other Dark magic, a gold pin signified a successful mission, and a white pin showed the location of places or people who were potential targets for a Dark magic attack.

The number of black and white pins were almost beyond counting, and only a few red or gold pins lay scattered about.

It was a reminder that for every successful mission, two more would follow.

It was a reminder that we were still not safe.

Y must've been thinking the same thing, as he muttered a second later: "Fucking black pins."

We worked late into the night, trying to match names of victims with people who might have reason to harm them, or to see them harmed. Motive and was often key to finding a lead. Voldemort's Death Eaters had been led by a combination of fear and ideology, and it was not uncommon for attacks to target Muggle-borns or half-bloods.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Y, sipping at his coffee, and I, again invisible, made our way to the Auror Office at a leisurely pace.<p>

As we approached, two great metal doors, etched with ancient runes, swung slowly open with a low scraping noise.

"That Dark Magic would not pursue those who would seek to destroy it," Y muttered a translation of the runes under his breath as we walked through the doorway.

A guard, standing just inside the doorway, paid us no heed. We rounded the corner to see a large open space, with several wizards and witches in green robes were duelling.

"Trainees," Y murmured again, then beckoned to a witch bustling past with a stack of papers.

"Excuse me, can you tell me if Amy Rogers is in?"

The witch looked annoyed to be interrupted. "She should be, check for yourself."

She pointed vaguely to the left.

Y nodded in acknowledgement and I sidestepped to avoid crashing into her as she moved on.

"Fourth on the left, fourth on the left…" murmured Y as we walked down the row of offices. He stopped. "Here we go."

He rapped sharply on the door.

"Who is it?"

"Level Nine."

I heard an audible sigh from the other side of the door.

"Alright, come in then."

The office was cluttered, with the walls covered in everything from newspaper clippings, to photos, to scribbled parchment. A Sneakoscope stood on a bookshelf in one corner.

"I suppose you'll be wanting the reports?" asked Amy.

"Yes, and I've got some more news. You won't like it. Here."

He pulled a folded letter from his robes and handed it to her. Her eyes scanned quickly over it, and then she swore.

"You've got to be kidding me! We barely started looking into it!" she said, glaring at Y.

"Don't shoot the messenger," Y drawled.

"_The incident has been reassigned to the Department of Mysteries, and will be dealt with by this Department internally," _she read, her voice bitter."So I suppose that's the last I'll ever hear of it?"

Y shrugged. "Depends. Essentially, though, the Aurors are now off the case."

"Why would he give it to your lot? What's so special about this attack that the Minister for Magic, a thousand other things on his plate, decides to get Unspeakables to do a job that the Aurors are perfectly capable of?"

"I don't make the Minister's decisions, I simply follow them," Y replied diplomatically.

"I don't understand. Kingsley's one of us. He's turning us into little more than glorified security guards!"

"Again, not my call."

"Surely you've got better things to do than run around after Death Eaters."

"We exist to deal with the things that the wizarding public aren't equipped to handle."

"That's a textbook Department of Mysteries response," she replied, exasperated.

"Did you expect otherwise?"

"No, I can't say I did," she sighed.

He nodded.

"I'll see you around."

"Wait."

He paused mid-turn.

"Back at the tent last night, when I asked if the Death Eaters were involved, you nodded."

"And?"

"Why?"

"You're a smart girl. You deserve to know something."

She looked at him, keeping her expression guarded. Then she gave a quick grin and replied.

"I guess I'll see you around."

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

The train ride home for Christmas was uneventful, although Hermione had come along to offer me some company, which I appreciated. We sat with Luna in a compartment to ourselves, and just talked, of small mindless things. But I enjoyed it.

We parted ways with Luna at the station (_Be careful around mistletoe, Ginny_. _Nargles, you know._) and met Ron and my mum, who after giving me a bone-shattering hug, led us to the Ministry car that would take us home.

The next few days passed by without notice. I spent them working on schoolwork, getting an early start on a couple of essays for Transfiguration and Charms.

It was a couple of days before Christmas when Hermione asked me one morning if I wanted to spend the day in Diagon Alley.

Glad for the distraction, and the change of scenery, I agreed.

We Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron, and headed for Gringotts.

Hermione winced as we walked into the Wizarding Bank.

"This might take a while, sorry, Ginny."

Her apology became apparent when we were literally swarmed by goblins.

"Ow!" I glared at a goblin who had prodded me sharply in the arm with a thin silver rod. He glared straight back, and then walked off muttering to himself.

"One little break-in and suddenly you're worse than You-Know-Who," Hermione quipped.

I giggled, which earned me another round of suspicious glares, as we headed for the vaults.

Getting into one of the carts, we made our way down to Hermione's vault, which was far deeper than I remembered.

"It's been moved. They weren't-"

Her explanation was suddenly drowned out by a roar that could've only come from a dragon.

"Oh yes, they've got a replacement for the old one. They make a special point of waking it very time Ron or I visit," she commented.

"The price of being a notorious bank robber," I laughed.

She made a face. "At least it's not as bad as the Chocolate Frog Cards. The first time I saw myself on one…" she shuddered, but then smiled. "Daughter of two dentists. I'm the youngest Muggle-born to ever get their face on one of the cards. I should be honoured, really."

A short while later, having filled our pockets with Galleons, we walked out again into the bright light of day, and I was temporarily blinded, my eyes accustomed to the darkness of the vaults.

"Ginny! Ginny!"

A group of reporters and photographers hung about at the bottom of the Gringotts steps, their attention all on me.

"God, I'm sorry, Ginny, I had no idea they'd be here," Hermione apologised.

"Ginny! Any word from Harry? Do you know where he is? Has he forbidden you to say anything?" asked one.

"He hasn't forbidden my anything!"

"So you've spoken to him, then?" pressed another.

"No, that's not what I meant, I-"

"Face the camera, just a couple of photos!"

I blinked as the flashes went off in my face.

"PISS OFF!" I shouted.

It didn't help.

"Are you angered by Mr Potter's departure? What effect has this had on your family?"

"What about you, Hermione? Heard anything? Figured out where he's hiding yet?"

"Excuse me!"

The reporters, photographers, Hermione and I all looked simultaneously at the new voice. A blonde woman who looked to be in her late twenties stood there with a stern expression and a red piece of parchment in her hand.

"You people know what this is?" She waved the red letter.

One of the reporters shot her a glare. "That's for Auror use-"

"I am an Auror. Bugger off, the lot of you. Fifty feet at all times."

Muttering darkly, the group began to shuffle away.

"Thanks," said Hermione, smiling warmly at the woman.

"No problem. It's the least I can do, really."

"So, you're an Auror?"

"Yeah, promoted to senior after the war. Sorry, my name. I'm Amy Rogers," she said, sticking out her hand.

We both shook it. "Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger," she said, acknowledging us both in turn.

"You should really get your hands on one of these, you know," she continued, waving the parchment again. "They come in handy, I can tell you that now."

"The press certainly doesn't help…you'd think they'd leave us alone now."

"Reckon that's half the reason your mate Potter upped and left, I do. Course, when he comes back, it'll be even worse for him, but at least he get's some reprieve."

"You really think he left to escape the _Daily Prophet?_" asked a sceptical Hermione.

"Oh, no. There's something more to it, but what that is, well, no one knows, do they?"

"And you think he'll return?" I inquired quietly.

"Yeah, I do. I don't think he's the sort of person who can stay away from his mates forever. I think he might want to exclude them from something to protect them, but he wouldn't leave without good reason."

"How do you know that?"

"I've read his file in the MLE. Massive, it is. Took me a week to get through it, and you wouldn't believe the sorts of hoops I had to jump through to even get my hands on it."

"Could I have a read of it?" Hermione asked, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.

"I'm sure you could," she shrugged. "You might be able to have a look at yours and Miss Weasley's whilst you're there."

"I've got a file?"

"Battle in the Department of Mysteries. Harry Potter's girlfriend-"

"Ex," I corrected.

"-and your Dad's Deputy Minister, not to mention the fact that your Mum took down bloody Bellatrix Lestrange! Stands to reason, doesn't it?"

I nodded in reply.

"Anyway, must be getting back to it," Amy spoke again, then handed me the red letter. "Here. Hold onto it for today. They'll be back once I head to the Ministry."

"You sure?" I asked.

"Yeah, tell you what, if you pop in to the Auror Office after New Years, I can get you your own one," she smiled. "Just ask for me."

"Thank you, really. That's great of you," I grinned back.

"Again, least I can do. Happy Christmas!" she said, beginning to leave.

We chorused the season's greetings in return, and joined the bustling crowds around the shops and cafes of Diagon Alley.

* * *

><p>It was Christmas Eve, and the celebrations at the Burrow were muted.<p>

No one needed reminding that this was our first Christmas without Fred.

"Hey, sis."

I looked up to see Charlie holding two cups of tea.

"Drink?"

"Yeah, that'd be lovely, thanks."

He sat down and sipped at his own drink.

I could see in Charlie's face that he wanted to leave the Burrow. He was a born wanderer.

"When do you think you'll go?"

He smiled, unsurprised that I knew what he'd been contemplating.

"After New Years. Seems appropriate."

"More dragons?"

"More dragons. I've been asked to help set up a ranch north of Moscow for the Russians. A couple of the guys I worked with in Romania are going too, and the pay is good, so I thought why not?"

"Sounds good. Have you told Mum?"

He sighed.

"Not yet."

"You need to. She won't like it, but she'll understand."

He looked directly at me, his eyes assessing me.

"You've become much more perceptive, Ginny."

I grinned. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Brat."

I smirked at him. "Do you have your broom?"

"If you reckon you can outfly me, little sister, you've gotten brave...or stupid."

I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Don't go crying to Mum when I beat you."

"To reiterate, Ginny: _brat_."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"Do you want to get out of here?" X asked me.

"Leave Christmas Eve at the Department of Mysteries? But it's so _festive,_"remarked Y.

We'd been working in our office deep within the Ministry, trying to piece together the location of the Death Eaters for the last week, and had made little progress. X, despite his lack of sensitivity, knew me well enough to know when I needed to just get away from it all.

"Yeah, please."

X nodded, and I got up. The two Unspeakables continued their work, not bidding me goodbye.

I made my way to the surface of London. The tolls of bells and festive lights punctuated the icy wind that whipped about the footpaths.

My destination in my mind, I Apparated.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

My conversation with Charlie was interrupted by the arrival of Bill and Fleur.

Dinner was painful. Before, a Weasley Christmas meant hours of jokes and laughter, now…well, no one needed reminding that there were three less seats at the table.

Yet we tried.

Hermione talked with Dad and Percy about the Ministry, whilst Ron uncharacteristically picked at his food, and Mum asked Fleur about the house, and any potential grandchildren, which earned an eyeroll from Bill. I smirked at him and he sighed.

But it wasn't the same.

Shortly, I met Charlie's eyes, and he nudged his head towards the garden.

Quickly finishing up, I gathered a couple of plates and brought them into the kitchen, where Mum had started washing up.

"Mum, you don't mind if Charlie and I are go out to the garden for a bit of flying?"

She turned to face me, not quite hiding the sadness on her face.

"Not at all, dear. Don't be too long, dessert'll be soon."

"Thanks Mum," I said, giving her a tight smile.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

It was snowing.

A cool wind howled through the streets of Godric's Hollow, sending a flurry of snowflakes into the air.

In the distance I could hear a group of choral singers delivering a message of redemption and forgiveness.

Would there be redemption and forgiveness for me?

For what I'd done?

Up ahead there were two Aurors standing watch in silent guard.

I pulled my Invisibility Cloak on and cast a Repellant Charm to prevent snow settling on what would appear to be empty air. Stealth had become instinctive to me.

Slipping past the Aurors was simplicity itself, but what I saw as I rounded the corner took completely by surprise.

Candles. Thousands of candles casting magical light had been set up in the ruins of my mother and father's home.

My first home.

And surrounding the house were hundreds of wizards and witches, all unseen to the eyes of the Muggles walking past.

"Tonight, we remember two fallen heroes of the first war against Voldemort. Lily and James Potter both gave their lives in protection of their son, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, who would defeat Voldemort and bring about our salvation."

"Their sacrifice ultimately enabled freedom from tyranny. Their union, a pure-blood wizard and a Muggle-born witch, was one of many that defied the expectations and traditions of their time. But their love was stronger than any prejudice."

He continued, his slow, steady voice washing over the crowd, as they listened in silent tribute, and then, in groups of threes and fours, went up to lay lilies at the base of the monument, in honour of my mother and father.

I stood there for hours, long after the candles and the people were gone

And I did not wipe away the tears that ran down my face.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

Charlie hadn't flown in a while, but that didn't make it any less of a challenge.

Even on an older broom, Charlie _flew. _

I could see the exhilaration in his face, the deft touches he made to guide the broom, and the intense gaze that crossed his features as he went into a dive.

People always said he could've played for England. They weren't lying.

Matching his aerial stunts move-for-move, I fell in behind him, laughing as I plummeted towards the earth, and accelerated into the heavens.

Everything was forgotten, the torrent of pain and sorrow that still sometimes surged inside me, the attacks and threats, even…Harry.

I was happy.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

It was about midnight when I made my way to the cemetery to the sound of the church bells ringing in the background.

I took my Invisibility Cloak off, and wiped the snow from their gravestone.

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

"Hi Mum, Hi Dad."

I sat on the cold ground with my parents, and talked, my head bowed.

"I don't know if you can hear me or see me now…I don't know what to believe anymore. Everything is so black and white, them and us, evil and good. There's no middle ground for me…

I don't know what you'd think of me if you were still here. I don't know if you ever thought I'd end up like this. Doing this. I…I've _killed_ people, Mum, Dad. _I did...I've done what he did to you."_

"And I don't think it's over yet…I know I'll do it again. Because I have to, y' see! I have to! They say it's to protect people…but I don't feel like I've accomplished anything at all! People are still dying. I can't do it… I can't protect them all!"

"You were both so incredible, and brave, and good! And I'm not! I'm not like you, I'm like them…I'm just like them! I've got blood on my hands, and some of these people, I don't know how guilty they are, if they're like me…lost, with nowhere to go."

"And there are two Unspeakables, too. And they do this so casually, so easily! I…I don't want to end up like them, firing Killing Curses without a second thought! I'm afraid…I'm afraid, that I'll lose me, lose myself in all of this. But Gryffindors aren't meant to be afraid…but I am, so scared that I'll end up like _him. _He said, he said I was like him… he wanted me to join him, and although my scar doesn't hurt anymore, I can't help but feel like he's still here…he remains in the hearts and minds of his followers, the ones who are loyal still…and I'm scared."

I lifted my face and looked into the bleak night.

"Why, Mum? Why did you put yourself in front of me, even when he gave you a chance to escape? Why Dad? Why did you attempt to hold him off even without a wand? You faced the most powerful Dark Wizard to walk the earth completely unarmed. Dumbledore said it was because you both loved me, but it didn't help…why did you leave me to this? WHY? AND WHY DID HE CHOOSE ME? I NEVER HAD A CHOICE!"

"I never even had a _choice_…"

My shoulders shook, and my chest heaved. I sat in silence for a few moments, and began to speak again.

"And then there's Ginny. She's beautiful, so very, _breathtakingly beautiful._ I can barely stand it. You'd understand how I feel Dad, it's like you and Mum. And she's brilliant. And I never said goodbye…I just left her. I just left everyone. And they don't know where I am, or what I'm doing… what would they say if they knew? What would they think? How can I ever even face them again, without telling them what I've done?"

"And I miss them, everyday. I miss their faces and their smiles, and Ron and Hermione's incessant bickering…they _never _stop bickering. I think they were a lot like you two. And then there's Neville, and Luna, and everyone…everyone who fought for me. They all believed in me then. But would they now?"

"And I miss her look, Ginny's look, the one she only ever gives to me. Merlin, I'd give _anything_ to see that look, just one more time…"

"Just one more time…"

Flurries of snow whirled through the frigid air, making the scene in the graveyard look not unlike a macabre snow globe. The church bells were ringing.

"It doesn't feel like Voldemort is gone. I dunno…maybe I thought that it'd be perfect, that it'd be alright once he was gone. It was all so simple. They never told me I'd be doing this! It's like he haunts me still. I can hear his voice…_Harry, Harry. Join me._"

I looked numbly ahead, imagining their voices, warm, comforting…the mother and father I never knew, but missed all the same.

_He's gone, Harry. Tom Riddle is gone. Forever._

_He can't hurt you anymore, son._

_We won, Harry. We beat him. _

_You beat him._

_We love you. Don't give up._

_Never give up._

"Happy Christmas, Mum and Dad," I whispered, and standing, I made my way to the gate, and bid them farewell.

"Goodbye."

I did not look back.

The bells were ringing.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

We landed, and Charlie gave me a tight hug.

"Happy Christmas, sis."

Stashing our brooms in the garden shed, we headed back inside.

After dessert, I bade my family an early night, and went upstairs to my room. Stepping past Hermione's stack of books, I flopped down on my bed and let out a sigh. I grabbed a Quidditch magazine, and began to idly flip through it, more for wont of something to do than any real desire to read it.

Hermione came up a short while later.

"Here, I've got something to show you."

She lay down on her camp bed, propping her head up onto a pillow, and waved her wand.

A stack of papers, letters, photos, scraps of parchment, and newspaper clippings all flew out of a folder, and hovered in the air.

"Research. These are all sightings or correspondence about Harry."

"You found all of this so soon?"

"He's one of the most famous people alive in our world. A lot of people pay attention where Harry's concerned," she said. "And I work quickly."

I reached and pulled a blurry photo of a figure in a black robe from the air. There was a red flash, then a green one, and then the figure in the photo fell to the ground.

"This is amazing, really Hermione."

"It wasn't all me. A lot of people want to know where he is too, not just us."

Reassured by Hermione's words, I slept soundly that night, only stirring briefly when Hermione left for Ron's room upstairs.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

A noise made me freeze.

It was an Auror, lighting his way with _Lumos, _but at this time of night, it was impossible that it was just a coincidence.

I went to grab my Invisibility Cloak, but it was too late.

"Potter! Stop!"

I didn't know why, but I obeyed and turned to face him.

"Hands on your head!"

I complied, and spoke: "How'd you find me?"

"I saw you before you put your cloak on. There were three of us."

"How did you find me here?"

"Lucky guess."

"What do you want?"

"I'm taking you in. We've orders to detain you on sight."

"Why?"

"Because we need you!"

"The Aurors need me?"

"Yes! My girlfriend…we're going to be married. She was in the attack at that shop last week. She's still in critical at St Mungo's. Please, you can help us win this!"

"I'm not going with you."

The scene reminded me of Dumbledore's escape in my fifth year. My wand was in my robes, and his happened to be about three feet from my face.

Pity I didn't have a phoenix handy.

"Don't make me Stun you!"

"Wait till the _Prophet _hears about an Auror Stunning Harry Potter. That's going to look good on the front page."

I didn't like using my hero status, but I didn't have a choice. I had to distract him somehow.

It worked. Hesitation show in his face, and I took my chance. I crouched to the ground, drawing my wand and Disarming him in one swift motion.

"Leave now," I demanded, my wand now aimed at him.

"Why aren't you helping? You...you could do so much! You're the Chosen One! You took down You-Know-Who! Innocent people are still at risk! And you...you're doing _nothing!"_

He looked at me with a mix of desperation and anger. I stared back, my jaw set. I wanted to tell him, what exactly I was doing, what I had given up. He had no idea. Finally, I answered.

"Don't come after me again."

With a _crack _that pierced the cold air, I disappeared, his words still ringing in my ears.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

Christmas Day was, to put it bluntly, rubbish.

The presents were good I guess. Hermione and Ron chipped in together to get me a set of quills and a new subscription to _Which Broomstick? _whilst Fleur and Bill had gotten me a new dress, and a couple of sets of robes. Mum and Dad, Charlie and Percy rounded out the presents, gifting me a new regulation Quarrel, tickets to a Harpies game at Easter, and some chocolate from Honeydukes.

But despite this, the absence of three people who should've been with us, one dead, one in St Mungo's, and one missing, still hung over our heads.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I slept in late on Christmas Day, and I found myself once again walking through the bleak corridors of the Department of Mysteries, deep underground London.

I was unable to buy presents for anyone, but Kingsley and Arthur had managed to send me some sweets from Honeydukes, and a collection of books, that included a few texts on advanced duelling spells, and a memoir written by an ex-Auror.

Lazily, I flicked through them, ignoring the snow that drifted past my enchanted window.

Dinner appeared, just like always, suddenly on the spartan wooden table that stood near my bed.

Numbly, I ate. The room felt like a prison.

At least the food was good.

Later, on a whim, I reached into my trunk and pulled out a photo album. I sat on my bed and flicked through it, lingering on each shot.

My friends. Ron. Hermione.

And Luna. Neville. Seamus. Dean.

Fred and George.

My Quidditch team.

Krum, Fleur, Cedric and I in our Triwizard robes.

Tonks and Remus, with Moody in the background.

Sirius.

Mum and Dad, dancing, smiling, loving.

And her.

My voice was barely a whisper as I ran my finger down the edge of her photograph.

"Happy Christmas, Ginny."

* * *

><p>AN: More of an exposition chapter than an action-packed one, but I promise that the next chapter will not disappoint on that front. Hope you liked it, and again, please, please, please review!


	4. Enemies Foreign and Domestic

I want to apologise for the time it's taken me to update - I've been very swamped with, well, _life, _lately, and I simply haven't found the sort of time to write that I'd like to. In case anyone is worried that I might not finish, I will promise you something right now: I will finish this story. Once I commit to writing, I stick with it.

Fortunately, the next two or three chapters are pretty much finished, so look forward to more updates in the near future.

On a side note, _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2_ was, in my opinion, excellent. My biggest disappointment was that they didn't mention Teddy and Victoire in the epilogue, because I'm a huge Teddy/Victoire fan, but it's very much a trivial complaint. All in all, I loved it.

Speaking of Teddy and Victoire, I'm going to shamelessly plug my new T/V oneshot, _Intoxicating. _It's fluff, but I like it. You can, of course, find it on my profile page.

Thank you to those who reviewed last chapter, as always, your reviews are incredibly appreciated.

Anyway, on with the show…

* * *

><p><strong>IV. Enemies Foreign and Domestic<strong>

_Harry_

It was bitterly cold.

I wrapped my cloak tighter around me as I followed X up a rocky mountain path. Y, behind me, was muttering something about 'fucking frostbite' and how he never wanted to visit Eastern Europe ever again.

I was inclined to agree with him.

"Harry, do you want to scout from the air?"

I sighed. I doubted that it would be any warmer two hundred feet up.

"Alright."

X tossed me the rucksack he had slung across his shoulder, and I reached in, and after fumbling about for a few seconds, drew out my Firebolt.

I took to the skies. We were looking for a forest nestled somewhere in the mountain range. It was Unplottable, and well-shielded, so finding it was proving to be a challenge.

The witch who inhabited the forest was worth it though.

She had been a personal friend of Bellatrix Lestrange, and apparently just as mental.

And also just as dangerous.

From what we knew, she'd recruited heavily for Voldemort throughout the Balkans, Estonia and Lithuania. From what we'd heard, she was still in contact with the resurgent group of Death Eaters that was threatening Wizarding Britain.

From the sky, I saw a sprawl of trees covering a gentle slope, and took out my wand.

I cast a blue light that flickered and faded into blackness.

Dark Magic was here.

I flew back down to meet X and Y.

"Just a couple of miles. Shall we Apparate?"

We did so, and appeared on the fringe of the forest. We moved quickly through the trees, pausing every so often to check for hidden wards. Eventually, we ran straight into a magical barrier. It glistened and shimmered a dull red as we made contact.

"We're in the right place at least," said X, brandishing his wand.

Drawing a complex weave of spells through the air, X began to break the shield.

"I'm going to need your help," said X, his voice strained. "This is stronger than it looks."

Y and I both drew our wands and pointed them at the ward.

Golden light began to emit from our wandtips, and X drew back, and then sweeping his wand in a wide circle, shot a stream of light into the wall of red in front of us.

With a bell-like noise, the ward dissipated.

"Let's go," instructed X, putting his wand away and continuing. Y and I followed suit, and we made our way into a clearing in the forest.

_Thump._

"What in Merlin's name was that?" exclaimed Y.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

"It's getting closer!"

"It sounds like-"

A massive bellow shattered the air.

That sort of noise could only come from one thing.

_Giants_.

There was another bellow, and another, and then the treetops parted as several giants shambled into the clearing.

"Ah, you've got to be fucking me!" shouted Y angrily, drawing his wand and firing a barrage of Stunners at one of the giants.

"You're only going to aggravate them!" yelled X.

"I'll show the bastards aggravation!"

A blossoming pillar of fire exploded from his wand, and livid and hungry, it began to feed like a living, raging beast. One of the giants fell back, but the others pressed onwards.

"I'm going to fly!" I shouted, trying to be heard above the coarse bellows of the giants. I grabbed my broom, and took to the sky, ducking below a hand that tried to snatch me, and weaving around flailing fists.

A giant is a notoriously difficult creature to hurt, wound, or kill. Their lives are a series of endless brutal conflicts, and only the biggest and strongest survive. Their hide naturally repels nearly every hex, jinx, or curse in the book.

But I wasn't aiming for their skin.

Swooping down and around, veering to avoid another limb, I aimed and fired a Killing Curse.

_Directly through the giant's eye._

It worked. The giant groaned and dark blood spurted from it's mouth as it went down. Together, X and Y had taken down another by hamstringing it to the ground. The cries of crippling pain cut off abruptly as it too was hit by a Killing Curse.

Three remained, including the Gurg, who was armed with what looked like half an oak tree for a club. A memory of a troll in a bathroom suddenly came to me as I flew, and I grinned.

_Wingardium Leviosa!_

The club was ripped unceremoniously from the giant, who looked perplexed for only a moment, before realising his club had mutinied against him, and was trying to smash his head in.

It was a surreal sight, me on my broom, swishing and flicking an enchanted oak trunk, trying to take out it's previous owner, whilst the giant grappled with it, trying to bring it back under control so he could swat the pesky wizard out of the air.

And, at that moment, I was sure-as-hell glad Hermione had made me pay attention to Professor Flitwick.

"HOOMIE! GIMME STICK!"

I brought my wand down in a sweeping motion, and the oak trunk _shattered_ on the skull of the Gurg. I found I still had control of a decent sized shard of the splintered oak, and I swung my wand back around to impale the shard through the throat of the Gurg.

He had asked politely, after all.

Only one giant was left, and as I swooped overheard, I saw X somehow climbing up the back of the brute. The giant had noticed and was trying to grab him, but it's massive muscle-bound arms were proving a hinderance.

"GEROFF, HOOMIE!"

X reached it's shoulders, and grabbing a fistful of hair to steady himself, jabbed his wand directly at the giant's head_. _I saw a blaze of brilliant green light unleash from X's wand, and then half the giant's head quite literally _exploded _clean off.

X jumped as the corpse collapsed, and was caught by a Levitating Charm from Y, who lowered our colleague to the ground.

I flew down low to hover a few feet above the grass.

"She knows we're coming," said X, his face grim,

"We need to move fast," said Y, reaching into the bag and drawing out a second broom, before passing the bag over to X.

On brooms now, we headed further into the forest, flitting through the dark trees.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

It was the 2nd of January, and from sheer lack of anything to do, Hermione and I decided to journey back to London.

Once we were in the capital, we made our way to the Ministry, quickly registering our wands as guests with a witch who bade us a good day, and we took a lift to the Auror Office on Level Two.

The Auror Office had a cavernous entrance through a great iron door that stood open as we walked in. Runes were etched into the metal.

We made our way to a small reception desk occupied by a prim looking witch.

"Is Amy Rogers here?" inquired Hermione.

"She was called away on a mission, sorry."

"Do you know when she'll be back?" I asked.

The woman gave me a look.

"I'm a secretary. I don't have the clearance to know that sort of information."

"Can you tell her that Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger came to see her when she gets back?"

The secretary's expression softened. "Sure."

We bade her farewell, and left the Auror Office.

"Shall we go and see Ron?" Hermione suggested, and I nodded. We stepped into an empty lift and began to head back down towards Level Eight, the Atrium.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

An hour of flying later, and we still hadn't come any closer to finding the witch. The sun had all but disappeared behind the murky canopy of the trees, which slowed us further down.

And then, without warning, vines shot out from the undergrowth, dragging X off his broom and to the forest floor.

He yelled in surprise, and then was cut off as one of the vines, python-like, wrapped itself around his neck and began to choke him.

"Devil's Snare!" exclaimed Y from behind me, as I dived to rescue X.

There was a crashing noise, and Y went to ground, caught too by the plant.

Another distant memory from my first year at Hogwarts went through my head, and drawing my wand, I conjured blinding light from my wand.

"You'll have to try harder than that!"

I looked up to the source of the voice. An incredibly old woman was perched in the branches of a nearby tree, her weathered face malicious. She pulled back her lips to reveal a cracked snarl.

From the corner of my eye, I saw X being dragged away into the bushes, and leapt into action.

If light wasn't going to work, I'd try fire.

Yelling, I cast a billowing blue flame into the air around me, as the woman let out an enraged howl.

The Devil's Snare retreated hastily, and Y, freed first, ran to pull X away as I turned again to face the witch.

"The Dark Lord told me of his foe. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived."

With a surprising agility, the woman leapt from her branch to land on the ground. From her sleeve she drew her wand.

I drew myself into a dueling stance.

"Careful, Harry," Y warned from behind me.

And then, she struck.

I barely managed to counter her first curse, and the second one that followed missed my face by inches.

The witch was faster than nearly anyone I'd ever seen.

With a wave of her wand, she sent several thin streams of light at me. I raised a powerful shield, and as the light collided, the impact threw me off my feet. Getting up, I hurled several Stunners back. However, each _Stupefy _was met with a manipulated vine or branch that blocked my spells from their target.

The woman cackled as each Stunner dissipated, and replied with a wave of inky black that sent an icy chill through the trees and darkened the sky. The black wave burst through the hasty _Protego_ that I'd cast, and surged closer. Gritting my teeth, I reached out with my hand, remembering the words X had said when I'd been training back in the Department of Mysteries.

_Focus. You can't do this without concentration. Focus on the energy inside of you._

_Now bring it forth, reach with your free hand, make a circle with your wand, and say the words._

The syllables rolled off my tongue as I flicked my wand in a circular motion.

And cast white lightning.

Like a scythe, the lightning tore through the inky black, crackling, livid, and lethal. The witch let out another enraged yell as her curse was broken. She conjured a glowing red shield as the lightning surged around her.

The very air howled as the magic intensified, growing brighter until I could see nothing but white light.

I held my wand at the ready, and as the bright light eventually dimmed, I tried to make out the figure that appeared from it.

It was Ginny.

She was gorgeous, radiating, as she fixed me with the soft smile that she'd only ever given to me.

She was wearing a white dress that clung to her in all the right places, the stark white accentuating the fiery stream of hair that flowed down her slender back.

She began to walk towards me, her head held high in a manner that exuded her proud confidence that was as much a part of her as the freckles that dotted across her nose.

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding in.

"Ginny, I-"

"_Crucio."_

Pain blossomed through every nerve in my body and I collapsed to the forest floor. She brought her wand down and I felt one of my ribs crack in my chest. A thin stream of blood trickled from my nose as I spasmed, fingers clutching at dirt and grass.

Black spots began to appear before my eyes, and I felt my willpower drain from my body.

This was it. I was done.

_No._

I wasn't done.

Not yet.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

She gasped in shock as my wandless spell flung her backwards and sent her wand spinning away.

Shakily, I got to my feet. With a reach of my hand, my wand flew back into my grasp.

"Harry, it's me. I'm yours, please…" she pleaded with me.

"Go to hell," I retorted through gritted teeth.

A flash of anger crossed her face, and she reached out an arm, words forming on her lips.

I didn't wait.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

I closed my eyes as I shouted the words, knowing that the Killing Curse could not miss.

It didn't matter that she wasn't really Ginny.

I couldn't watch her die.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

The lift plummeted downwards, but then suddenly came to a screeching halt. It shook as a great rumble emitted from below us. Hermione let out a gasp as the light disappeared and we were cast into pitch black.

"Ginny?"

"I'm alright. _Lumos._"

I held up my wand to see Hermione's worried face.

"What do you think's happened?"

"I don't know."

Her mouth was a grim line.

"Is there a way we can communicate with someone? Get the lift going?"

There was another rumble.

"It sounds like, I dunno, an explosion," I hazarded a guess.

Hermione nodded, then drew her own wand.

"_Protego Horribilis."_

I looked at her, surprised.

"That's the shield charm against Dark magic, right? You don't think…?" I left it hanging.

"A year on the run taught me it's better to be safe than sorry."

The lift shook again as a third rumble sounded.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"Well done," said X, freed from the last of the Devil's Snare.

I nodded my head in acknowledgement.

"We should be able to Portkey back to London from here," said Y, fishing about in the rucksack, and drawing out a bottle of Butterbeer, which he opened and took a swig from, then tapped his wand against the glass.

"_Portus."_

X and I clasped our hands over the bottle, and seconds later I felt the tug behind my navel as we left the forest behind.

Because we couldn't Portkey directly into the Department of Mysteries itself, we'd made a habit of using a small Muggle flat that we'd rented out near one of the entrances to the Ministry.

On our arrival, I grabbed my Invisibility Cloak, and we made our way down an alleyway where a discrete entrance to the Ministry was placed.

Like the entrance to Platform 9¾, it was simply a brick wall that anyone with magic could simply walk right through.

I led the way, striding right through the seeming solid brick wall.

And walked into hell.

The Atrium was in chaos. Three massive craters had been gashed into the floor, and the room was filled with a cloud of ash and dust. Bloodied, mangled bodies were visible around the three blackened crater sites.

An army of St Mungos personnel had descended on the scene, and were tending to injuries sustained in the blasts. MLE wizards and witches were also swarming around the room, taking questions from witnesses, no, _survivors_, and setting up barriers around the destroyed area.

A couple of reporters rushed past, one sporting a camera that was rapidly taking pictures of the disaster. The second held a microphone to his face, and was speaking rapidly into it.

"We're in the Atrium on Level Eight of the Ministry of Magic, where only minutes ago, three explosions occurred, killing an undetermined number of people. This is the WWN, reporting live from the aftermath of an attack on the Ministry itself. The devastation is unbelievable…Merlin, I won't forget this for as long as I live…I repeat, an attack on the Ministry itself!"

I stood there, momentarily dazed, until a rough hand on my shoulder shook me from my trance.

"Go back to your rooms in Mysteries, Harry. You can't help here," instructed X, his voice in my ear.

I wanted to help, but I knew he was right. I couldn't just appear out of thin air and save the day.

This time, I was too late.

Silently, I slipped away.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

We'd been stuck in the lift for about twenty minutes when it suddenly came back to life, the lights flashing on, and with a dull whirr, it lurched forwards.

I stood up as it came to a sudden halt.

"_Level Eight, Main Atrium."_

The metal grate slid open and I took in my surroundings, robbed of speech.

Three great craters, like scars, had been blown the floor, accompanied by a thin film of soot that blanketed the very air. Scores of people were rushing in every direction, from journalists to Mediwitches, teary-eyed secretaries and a number of red-robed wizards carefully removing corpses from the craters in the floor.

Next to me, Hermione swore, and I found that, despite the horrific scene before my eyes, I had to bite back a laugh. Hermione never swore.

Two wizards in red robes strode past carrying a stretcher.

The receptionist who'd checked us in as guests barely an hour ago lay dead upon it.

"Ginny!"

I turned to see Percy dashing towards me. He had a cut on his forehead, and his arm was in a makeshift sling.

"Are you alright?" he said rapidly.

"Yes, no, I'm fine, we were in the lift when it happened. But what about you? Percy, your forehead!"

He waved it off with his good arm.

"I'm fine. Have you seen Dad?"

"No, we just got out now. Per-"

I didn't finish my sentence as Percy dashed away.

"Come on, let's help," suggested Hermione.

Hermione and I began to make our way towards one of the craters, but were stopped by a Hitwizard.

"Sorry, Miss, I can't let you go any further."

"But we can help!" I protested.

"Stand down, John, they're with me."

I turned to see Amy Rogers, the Auror we'd planned on meeting, striding towards us. Her right arm was wrapped in a bandage, but she looked ready to kill.

"Amy, what happened?"

"I'll tell you in a minute. I only got back myself. Come this way."

She led us down a flight of stairs to an alcove in the wall. Tapping her wand against the stone, she muttered something under her breath and a metal grate appeared, a green fire springing up.

"Internal Floo to the Auror Office. Follow me."

She stepped on the grate and disappeared in a green flare. Hermione and I did the same, and we reappeared outside the vast metal doors that guarded the entrance to the Auror Office.

Three wands were pointed at us before we had time to blink.

"It's me," declared Amy.

One of the three guards gestured toward the door. Amy walked to the doors and placed her hand on one.

Nothing happened.

The three wizards wordlessly lowered their wands, and one joined Amy by the doors and knocked twice.

With a grating noise, the huge doors swung inwards, and with a nod to the guards, Amy led us through.

"What would've happened if you weren't an Auror and you touched the door?" asked Hermione.

"You'd turn into stone where you stood," she replied simply. "I have to talk to the other Aurors, I won't be long."

Inside, Dad was waiting. He rushed over to me and engulfed me in a hug.

"Your mother said you'd come to the Ministry, Ginny. Are both of you alright?"

"Yes, we're fine. Dad, did you see Percy? He was looking for you."

"I sent him my Patronus. He's coming now."

His face livid, the Minister for Magic suddenly burst through the entrance.

"How the hell did this happen? Someone…Arthur!"

"Kingsley, do we have a report?"

"Yes, I just got handed it on my way here. According to eyewitnesses, three wizards registered as guests made it into the hall where, one by one, they exploded."

"Exploded?"

"Vials of potion were strapped to their bodies. Demolition Draught, according to the Potions Division."

"This happens to Muggles. They call it suicide bombing," said Dad.

The Minister nodded.

"What about casualties?"

"Close to fifty wounded, sixteen are dead."

"Merlin. Any idea on who-"

Kingsley cut Dad off with a guarded look. "I don't know."

An ageing wizard wearing Wizengamot Court robes bustled over to Kingsley, anger on his face.

"What in Merlin's name happened, Kingsley? I thought this damn place was a fortress!"

"Higgins, please-"

"Three wizards just walk in, and-"

"Higgins-"

"I expect that you'll be answering to the Chamber for all-"

"Higgins!"

The elderly looking wizard stopped talking.

"I have every intention of briefing the Wizengamot as soon as the situation is under control. Please be patient."

"Patient? Only for so long, Minister. Only for so long."

With surprising speed, the wizard hurried away.

"Pack of wolves, the lot of them," muttered Kingsley, before heading off with Dad to his office.

"I'll send Ron my Patronus. He'll be worried sick else," said Hermione, conjuring the ethereal otter from her wand. "Ron, there's been an attack. We're all fine. I'm with Ginny and your Dad right now. I love you."

With a whisper, the Patronus sped from the room.

Amy returned from her discussion with the other Aurors.

"I have a million other things to do, but I have your Press Restriction Papers, and seeing as you're here, I might as well give them to you now."

We followed her into her office, were she handed each of us an envelope.

"Guaranteed freedom from reporters. Enjoy."

"Thanks, Amy," I said. Hermione echoed my sentiment.

She shot me a tight smile. "If I were you, I wouldn't want to deal with it, either."

"You're not wrong about that."

"Will you stay for the Wizengamot Chamber?" she asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, an edge in her voice. "I want to know how on earth this was possibly allowed to happen."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I paced my room for about twenty minutes, trying desperately to think of some lead, some scrap of parchment that could have some connection to this attack.

I had no luck.

X and Y, both covered in soot and dust, entered with somber expressions on their faces.

"We're going to get cleaned up. Kingsley and Arthur are talking now, and they want to see you. He's in his office. We'll do a proper briefing tonight," informed Y.

"Okay."

I grabbed my Cloak and headed towards Kingsley's office.

Reaching his door, I heard loud voices inside. I reached to open the door, but paused. Curiousity won out, and making sure my Cloak was covering me properly, I crouched beside the door.

"I can't do this anymore, Kingsley! I can't do it!"

"Arthur-"

"You have no idea, Kingsley! No idea at all! I sat there, surrounded by my family, and lied through my teeth! My only daughter cried herself to sleep for months, and I've known, all this time! Now this! They've gotten to us, Kingsley, despite all that we've has done! What good is Wrath of Merlin when we can't even protect our own front door!"

"Deputy Minister Weasley, look at me," Kingsley said with authority. "Do you know why I begged you to take this job?"

"Why?"

"Because I can trust you. And there are very few people left alive in whom I can place my trust."

"That doesn't explain why I had to be in on it, though!"

"Listen. You have to know about _Merlin_. I explained this when I first told you about it. You are my insurance, so in the event of my death, it continues."

"I understand. I just…I can't keep it a secret forever, Kingsley. I don't even know how my family would react now! Ginny, if she's anything like her mother, would be after my head, and I'm not sure Molly would stop her! Ron…he's Harry's best friend, he might understand, but he won't be happy about it!"

He paused, and there was a heavy silence in the room.

"I'm scared, Kingsley. I'm scared that they won't forgive me."

"They will."

"I've betrayed their trust, their love…"

"Arthur, they'd have to find out first."

"You don't think they won't? I'm not going to tell them, but I can't make any guarantees for Hermione!"

"She's been prying?"

"Well, put it this way, if there's a list of people who know the most about Harry right now, with Harry being number one, and us four rounding out the top five - she'd be number six."

"That girl is far too intelligent for her good. How long has she been at this?"

"About a month."

"Bugger," exclaimed Kingsley.

I grinned. That sounded like Hermione.

"Isn't she busy with NEWTS?" "This is apparently a hobby."

"Merlin's beard…can't we find something for her to do?

"Like what?"

"I guess I we could put her in charge of the Reform Bureau."

"We already have someone in charge of the Bureau."

"I'll make him Ambassador to the French Ministry."

"We've already got an Ambassador to the French Ministry." "He's retiring."

"Well, that works out then. But how are you going to get approval from the Wizengamot?"

"I don't have to. The Bureau only has the power to make recommendations at this stage, so a formal approval isn't necessary."

From my position beside the door, I checked my watch. I was ten minutes late, and I didn't want Kingsley to think I'd been eavesdropping. I knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

Once the door was firmly shut and locked behind me, I unwrapped the Invisibility Cloak from my shoulders.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes. Harry, we missed this one completely. I don't know how. I don't know why."

He fixed me with an eagle-like stare.

"But we are sure as hell going to make them pay."

I nodded. Arthur was silent.

"We'll debrief on the Europe mission and cover this bloody mess tonight. Good?"

"Yeah. Good luck with the Wizengamot."

He grimaced, and I went back under my Cloak.

On my way down to Level Ten, I rounded a corner along the corridor, and there she was, not ten feet in front of me.

Ginny.

She was so tantalisingly close, so close.

Her eyes were strained, and there was something - a sadness - in her bearing that I hated.

I hated it because I knew that it had been caused in part by me.

Others couldn't see it. I didn't even know if she could see it herself.

But despite it, I could't help but think that she was still the most beautiful person I'd ever laid eyes on.

She was with Hermione, Percy, and the Auror we'd dealt with last year - Amy Rogers.

"Kingsley is about to brief the Wizengamot Chamber," said Percy. "This way."

Ginny's group headed towards the lifts for Level Ten.

I followed them at a short distance, and upon our arrival, I slipped around to the other side of the Chamber so I could see Ginny's face.

She looked around the Chamber, and for the tiniest moment, she looked directly at me, and I looked into her eyes.

She only saw empty air.

Below, Kingsley entered and beckoned for silence.

"Earlier today, Wizarding Britain suffered an attack on it's most public institution, the Ministry itself. Three wizards self-destructed, using Demolition Draught, in the Atrium, causing great devastation. Seventeen are confirmed killed, and we expect that to be the final death toll. Dozens have sustained injuries. At this point, I want to commend the bravery and dedication of the rescue and recovery personnel involved, especially the staff of St Mungos."

And then came the storm:

"How could you let this happen?"

"Minister, how do the wards on your home compare with the minimal protection in the Ministry?"

"Blatant breach of security protocol!"

"Disgraceful!"

"In my day-"

"Broken promises of protection! Empty words for the people of Wizarding Britain!"

In a matter of seconds, the Chamber was in an uproar.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood there, facing the onslaught.

He was a man under siege.

We were a people under siege.

And I could see no end in sight.

* * *

><p>I promised a bit more action, so I hope that suffices!<p>

'HOOMIE!' in Giant means 'Human' - in case anyone was wondering.

By unfortunate coincidence, the bombings in this chapter somewhat mirror the tragedy unfolding in Norway at the moment. I'm not too sure if I have any Norwegian readers, but if I do, you have my condolences.

Finally, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review!


	5. A Brave New World

Author's Note: And so many months later…

Sorry it's taken so long to update - I just haven't found the time, and when I have, there have been a lot of things I've wanted to change, etc. But rest assured, I will be updating more quickly in the immediate future.

* * *

><p><strong>V. A BRAVE NEW WORLD<strong>

_Harry_

"What will you do, Minister?"

"You can't even protect us inside our own Ministry!"

"ORDER! ORDER!" yelled Percy. "I SAID, ORDER!"

After a few moments, the Wizengamot quietened down.

"Higher security levels will be put in place immediately. Public access to the Ministry will be by application only. All guests and personnel will have to clear stringent background checks. We will find out who is responsible, and we will make them pay," Kingsley finished.

_Make them pay._

Kingsley's words were no hollow threat. I would make sure of it.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

I noticed the change as soon as I walked through the barrier at Platform 9¾, heading back to Hogwarts. A climate of fear had descended over the platform

It wasn't just the horde of Hitwizards standing guard on the platform.

It wasn't just the solemn faces, the wary expressions, or the hushed tones.

It was the magic.

Magic that tainted every surface, washed over every person, seeking - no, _hunting._

Everyone on the platform could feel it. It was like a _presence_ - one that I couldn't shake off.

With a flick of my wand, I levitated my trunk onto the baggage rack, and suddenly felt light-headed. Grimacing, I put a hand to my head.

"It's the ward," explained Hermione. "If it senses any magic other than it's own, it'll swarm over the witch or wizard. Best not to use your wand if you can help it."

"What's it -" I gestured at the empty air around us, "- called?"

"_Dar_-something, um, _Dar-jach_."

"_Dar_-what?"

"_Dar-jach. _It's very ancient. I only know because Bill mentioned it to me once. Said it was used in tombs. I'm surprised that anyone still knows how to cast it."

"It's horrid," I replied with distaste.

"Try not to think about it, else it'll just get worse."

We climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express and found a compartment near the tail end of the train. An Auror stood at the end of the corridor, silent, imposing.

As we took our seats, a voice rang out.

"_Good morning, students. I am Auror Stark. You will have noticed a change in today's trip back to school. Two other Aurors, a contingent of Hitwizards, and myself will accompany you to Hogwarts today. We are here to protect you. If anything happens, stay in your compartments. Do not leave unless instructed to by a Magical Law Enforcement Officer."_

"Do they really think we're in that much danger?" Hermione wondered out loud.

"They must do, hell, why else would they send half of MLE?" I replied.

We jerked in our seats as the train lurched into motion, shuddering along the track and gradually gaining speed.

I glanced out the window and saw a Hitwizard in heavy blue robes flying alongside the train on broomstick.

He gave me a barely discernible nod, and flew past.

"I thought … I thought it'd all change. You know?" I said.

"Me too," Hermione replied.

"What happened, Hermione?" I asked. "Why does the world still need fixing? Get rid of Voldemort, yeah? That was the plan. And then everything would be alright? Why, I mean … did it ever cross Dumbledore's mind that Voldemort wasn't the only one out there?"

Hermione didn't reply.

I thought back to the first Prophet headline to go to press after Harry defeated Voldemort. It went something like this:

_THE WAR IS OVER! REIGN OF TERROR ENDS AS YOU-KNOW-WHO IS VANQUISHED FOR GOOD_

They said we'd won. They said the war was over.

Problem was, it didn't feel like we'd won the war.

It felt like we were still fighting it.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"They used _Dar-jach_ on the platform?" I asked as X, Y and I made our way to Kingsley's office.

"It's a necessary measure. An attack could come from anywhere, anytime now. They're considering putting it up in the Atrium," said X.

"Kingsley's getting a ton of flack for it though," Y replied.

"It's a bloody tomb ward, what else was he going to get for it?" remarked X.

We reached the office and entered without knocking.

"How's public reaction?" asked Y.

Kingsley shot him a flat look.

"How do you think?"

Y shrugged.

"They're outraged, obviously. 'Mind rape' is about the nicest thing I've heard about it."

"If there was a successful attack, they'd hit you for not being prepared enough. You can't win, Kingsley," said X.

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Got anything about the bombings?" I asked.

"Yes, we do. A potential base of operations in East London. Highly populated with Muggles, which is why we didn't pick it up sooner."

"Me an' Harry can check it later today," said Y.

Kingsley nodded, and we took our leave.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny <em>

We pulled in at Hogsmeade station early in the evening. Despite all the security, or maybe because of it, the journey had been altogether uneventful.

Nearly every single student could see the Thestrals now. It was just another example of how Voldemort's evil would live on beyond him.

My face downcast, I hopped into a carriage beside Hermione. The journey to the castle was silent.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

At the age of ten, before I got the letter that changed my world, I didn't really think far ahead into the future. Sure, I knew that one day I'd be able to leave my Aunt and Uncle, but I didn't really plan much further than that.

I certainly didn't think I'd ever be fighting off a knife-wielding Muggle in a public toilet by a Council Estate.

But hey, life throws these little surprises at you.

Y and I had gone into East London to investigate the potential hideout. And then, from nowhere, we were under attack.

It seemed surreal. Two boys no more than sixteen, accompanied by a man who looked as he'd only just celebrated his twentieth birthday, were trying to attack us.

One of the boys pulled a knife from his jacket, and jabbed it in Y's direction. In a lightning-fast movement, Y stepped forward, grabbed the boy's wrist, and twisted it so the knife was pointing at his throat. One sudden jerk upwards, and the boy toppled over.

With a yell, the man went for him, but I didn't have time to watch. The other boy, facing me, fumbled for for a knife tucked inside his jersey. I didn't wait, and tackled him low around the waist, my shoulder driving into his stomach. His back hit the wall, knocking the wind out of him, as the knife clattered to the floor. Remembering the combat training I'd been given, I swung a kick at it, sending it skittering away, before driving an elbow into his nose.

It broke with a distinctive _crack_, sending blood pouring from his nostrils, and just as he yelled in pain, I slammed his head into the wall, dazing him. He struggled against me, but I pulled his head back twice more to smash against the wall before he went limp.

I got up, wiping my hands on my clothes, before turning to see Y holding the last assailant face down in a wash basin with one hand, and turn the tap on with the other.

The water ran into the basin, and I knew the man was going to drown to death at Y's hands. I watched grimly as the struggle went on, the man's body writhing against Y's terrible grip, but to no avail.

After too long, it was done. Y let go of his attacker, and the body slid to the floor.

"Did you kill him?" asked Y, looking at the boy who had attacked me.

"Knocked out."

Y grunted, and led the way out of the toilet.

I felt a strange sense of pity for my assailants as we left.

They never had a chance.

Shortly, we arrived at the Estate.

We reached a staircase and quickly ascended up to the fourth floor.

Using Sirius' knife, I hastily picked the lock on the door. Y tested the handle once, then burst inside, wand at the ready.

He paused, and then lit his wand.

"Doesn't look like there's any magic. Place looks like it's been abandoned for a month. Dammit!"

I followed him inside. The dingy flat stank.

"Check the rooms."

I crossed over to the bedrooms as Y rummaged through the kitchen. The first room was empty save a mouldy mattress. I went to the second room, and as I opened the door, I heard a rattling noise. This room was empty save a wardrobe in the corner.

It was the same distinct rattle that I had first heard so many years ago, in a Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom with Remus.

It was a Boggart.

With a flick of my wand, I unlatched the wardrobe door.

The swirl of grey mist rushed at me, taking form. A figure materialised, and to my horror, I came face to face …

… with myself.

* * *

><p>I re-entered the kitchen.<p>

"Anything?" asked Y, still searching through cupboards.

"A Boggart. I banished it," I replied simply.

I did not tell him what I had seen, what form the Boggart took.

I did not tell him that it had become me.

Y slammed a cupboard door shut in disgust.

"Come on, let's go. There's nothing else here."

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

"Miss Weasley, a word please," said Professor McGonagall, pulling me aside in the corridor.

"Sure, Professor."

She led the way to her office, as I wondered what she wanted to discuss with me.

We entered, and I took a seat, noticing how it looked similar to the way Dumbledore had kept it, except the Quidditch trophy was proudly displayed on a stand on the left.

"Miss Weasley, I wanted to talk to you about your career prospects. It occurred to me that I haven't spoken to you about them since your fifth year. I am correct in saying that you were unsure of what exactly you wanted to do, but it was your dream to play Quidditch, am I not?'

"Yes, Professor," I replied, impressed by her keen memory.

"Have you considered the matter further?"

Did I want to play Quidditch professionally?

Yes.

And I could say that without a moment's hesitation.

James Potter and Harry had both made the same sacrifice - giving up Quidditch dreams to fight for the wizarding world against Voldemort.

I didn't have to make that choice.

"Yes, Professor. I want to play professionally."

She smiled in approval.

"Win the Cup, Miss Weasley, and you may find yourself just doing that."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"The Wizengamot is called to order!"

Concealed by my Invisibility Cloak, I took a seat high in the gallery where I could watch the proceedings. We'd arrived back not ten minutes ago, and had snuck into the Wizengamot Chamber.

"The Minister has been requested to make a statement in the interests of the public good, and he will now do so."

Kingsley stood and cleared his throat.

"Assembled members of the Wizengamot, I wish to update you on several matters since the Atrium bombings. An investigative report headed by the Auror Office is currently in progress. Furthermore, we have tested new, stringent security measures in prominent Wizarding locations, including Diagon Alley and Platform 9¾."

"I'd like to specifically address the use of a particular ward, Dar-jach. Let me reassure you that Dar-jach, firstly, is not Dark Magic. It is a Restricted Class One cursive ward."

"It's oppressive magic!"

"Oppressive? If you don't intend to commit a crime, then the worst it'll give you is a headache. Oppressive would be gangs of Legilimens prowling the streets! The MLE implemented the use of the Dar-jach ward because they believed that it would offer the best guarantee of protection, and I do not believe we should offer the Wizarding families of Britain anything but the very best!"

A lean looking Councillor stood. "This is ridiculous, Kingsley! We don't believe for one second that this ward would be necessary if you hadn't done your job properly in the first place!"

"You go too far!"

"Come on, Harry, we need to debrief with X," Y whispered. "Leave them to their petty squabbles."

Leaving the Chamber, we made our way back to the Department of Mysteries, and I pulled up a chair as Y made tea in a kitchenette in one of the offices.

"What did X do in the war?" I asked, wondering inwardly why I'd never questioned Y about it before.

"Kept his head low in the Department of Mysteries. Protecting the Secrets had to be his main priority. But I understand that a number people had unfortunate accidents when they got too curious."

"What about you?"

"Spent most of it smuggling refugees across the Channel to France and then to Italy."

"Italy?"

"Voldemort's reach extended beyond Britain and Ireland. Even Germany could be dangerous."

"How did you get them out?"

"Muggle transport."

"Through the tunnel?"

"Nah, mostly in shipping containers. It was the best way of getting past the Snatchers. We'd load families into containers, and I'd clear the docks of any Snatchers keeping watch. I knew a Muggle Captain who had married a witch - so he knew of our world. He ferried me across the Channel more times than I could count."

"Where did you land in France?" I was curious to know more.

"Calais. At first," Y replied, and there was a hint of regret in his voice. "Then we lost a family in an ambush. From then on we smuggled them onto the beaches at Normandy."

He fell silent, and I knew he wouldn't tell me anything else.

The silence was interrupted by X, walking into the office.

"Find anything?"

"We happened across a trace of magic in a public loo," I supplied.

"And?"

"Some Muggles tried to mug us," added Y.

"You're joking."

"They're nothing to worry about now."

X grunted in understanding.

Y continued.

"We then found the flat. It'd been abandoned for a long time. Only thing left was a Boggart."

"Fuck."

We were all silent for a moment, then X spoke up again.

"Stay ready. I'm going to check a couple of sources. We may not be out of luck just yet."

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

"What did McGonagall want to talk to you about?" asked Hermione when I met her for dinner.

"Quidditch...she reckons that if I play my cards right, I could join the League out of Hogwarts."

"Really? Ginny, that's brilliant!" she exclaimed.

I grinned.

"My brothers will be mad."

She laughed. "I think they'll be very proud. We need Quidditch, Ginny. It's one of the few comforts our world has right now."

I poured myself a drink from a pitcher of pumpkin juice, and took a sip as I mulled over McGonagall's words.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I was just finishing dinner with Y when X returned.

"We've got another lead. This came through the Auror Office."

"Can't they take care of it?"

"They'll follow up. We get the fun part."

X conjured a shimmering three-dimensional model of the safe house in the air.

"It's warded, and there are a number of traps around the perimeter. This is definitely the place."

"Wards haven't stopped us before," said Y.

"But it'll slow us down," I said.

"Exactly," said X. "That's why we're going in -" he made a motion with his wand, "- like this."

Y let out a low whistle.

"We leave tonight. Get ready," said X.

I gave him a curt nod and began my preparations.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

I couldn't sleep.

McGonagall's words to me earlier had set my heart racing.

To play in the League would be a dream come true.

Yawning, I glanced at my watch. 2:37 am. Moonlight streamed through the crack between the curtain and the wall.

And as they had done on so many sleepless nights, my thoughts drifted to Harry. Where was he? What was he doing? Somewhere, out there, was he tossing and turning, thinking of me?

Banishing all thoughts of Harry from my mind, I tried to get to sleep.

* * *

><p>A thousand feet in the air above Essex, three men clad in cloaks and black dragonhide brought their brooms to a slow hover in the sky.<p>

One of the men held a hand up, then gestured with three fingers.

_Three._

_Two._

_One._

Without hesitation, the three men leapt off their brooms, cloaks billowing as they plummeted in freefall towards the earth.

_Harry_

As the air shrieked past my ears, I glanced at my watch. It was 2:37 am.

The plan was simple. They would not expect an aerial assault.

As we fell, I reached for my wand and tore it from the holster on my leg, seeing X and Y do the same from the corner of my eye.

We had only been falling for a few seconds, and already the ground was rushing towards us.

A red light flashed from Y's wand.

That would give us a window to burst through the ward surrounding the house.

At the last possible moment, X gave us the second signal.

"_Arresto Momentum!"_

I felt my stomach lurch in my chest as we jolted to a halt, a mere three feet above the rooftop of the safe house.

Y let out a string of expletives under his breath.

I clambered over to the edge of the roof, and checking to make sure I wasn't being watched, flicked open a window with my wand. Y climbed through it as I covered him, and then followed him. X quickly joined us.

We were in.

"No survivors," murmured X.

This wasn't reconnaissance.

This was revenge.

"Might as well let them know they've got company," said Y dryly.

The first three opponents we encountered as we moved deeper into the safe house were stripped of their wands in an instant, and before surprise could even register on their faces, Killing Curses had ended their lives.

A couple more took cover beside a staircase. With a twirl of his wand, X conjured a malicious fire that flushed them out.

No longer concerned with stealth, we made our way through the house to shouting and screams. With clinical precision, we shielded and cursed as a unit, cutting a swathe through black robed figures.

It was textbook in every single way.

"Downstairs!" shouted X.

We made our way to another staircase. Suddenly, shards of white light ricocheted around us, and we dove for cover. A beam of light grazed my arm, and I winced.

"You good?" asked Y.

I gave a grim nod, and summoned blue lightning that tore a hole through our attackers.

My partners dispatched the remaining assailants, and I spotted an entrance to the basement level. I led the way, pausing only to strike green light into a Death Eater trying in vain to reach his wand.

As I entered the basement I saw the cauldrons.

Dozens of them, filled to the brim with a bubbling mixture that let off a cloud of steam.

Demolition Draught.

"Shit…" said X, a wary expression on his face as he inspected a cauldron. "Left to mature, there'd be enough here to level Diagon Alley."

"I'd like to know where they got the ingredients. At least half are restricted substances."

"Reserves from the war?"

"Maybe."

X shrugged.

"No use staying here."

We had done what we came to do.

I tugged a boot off one of the Death Eaters who had been one of the last to fall. It would be our ride home.

"_Portus."_

I placed my hand on the boot-turned-Portkey, and Y did the same. X was the last to grab the Portkey, and yelled"Incendio!" as he did.

The cauldrons detonated in a fiery blast into the space around us as we vanished into thin air, leaving only destruction in our wake.

* * *

><p>In the frosty dawn, Amy Rogers walked through the rubble of the ruined house. Several blackened skeletons were littered about the site. There were a number of deep craters in the ground ahead.<p>

"Auror Rogers?"

She turned to see a trainee approach her.

"You've got a message from London."

"Yeah?"

"They're saying to call it in. Kingsley is going to announce that an accident with the Demolition Draught caused the house to explode as the Aurors were circling it.

"But we were nowhere near it!"

The trainee shrugged. "That's what I was told to pass onto you."

Amy sighed.

"Let the others know we're done here."

The trainee nodded and left the Auror to her thoughts.

This hadn't been an accident. Deep down, she knew it. The Death Eaters who orchestrated the attack on the Ministry wouldn't be so careless around Demolition Draught. She never underestimated her enemies.

Someone had been here. Someone had done this.

But who? Who was capable of such desolation?

Only one came to mind...and he had died months ago at the hands of Harry Potter.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"_Cries of jubilation rang out at the announcement that the terrorists responsible for the Atrium Attacks had been dealt justice. Minister Shacklebolt would not go into specific details, but praised the Auror Department's hard work in tracking down those responsible. He added that the terrorists, with several Death Eaters among them, had fought to the death, not willing to surrender -"_

I switched off the wireless, and lay down on my bed in the sparse room I called home, deep below London. Only five people knew the truth of what had happened.

_Vengeance from the skies above_, I thought to myself.

We cannot lose.

Try as we might.

Though many of our politicians are so stupid, so cowardly, as to all but guarantee defeat …

Though we face fanatical psychopaths who revel in destruction and the arcane …

Though the people we are meant to be saving are torn apart with fear …

Though we do things that will stain our souls forever …

We cannot lose.

Because one day, this war will be over.

And when it is over, when we finally lower our wands, and no longer command Death to do our bidding –

No one – _no one_ – in Magical Britain, or the entire Wizarding World, will look at what is left of the enemy –

And think that it is smart to fuck with us.

* * *

><p>Please, please review! I don't have to tell you how much it helps to get feedback :)<p>

_Dar-jach _is an exploration of privacy versus security - how far do we go invading personal liberty in the name of safety?


	6. Collateral Damage

A/N: As promised, a much faster chapter update!

I've recently published a companion oneshot to _Wrath of Merlin _that focuses on Y's actions during the war, called _Sword Beach. _It's well worth checking out if you'd like some insight into Y's character and history. You can find it on my profile page, of course.

* * *

><p><strong>VI. Collateral Damage<strong>

_Harry_

The five of us who made up Operation Wrath of Merlin met in one of our rooms in the Department of Mysteries. It had been a week since our last success.

"We have a problem. Amy Rogers."

"I spoke to her yesterday. She's gotten curious. She's pieced together a lot of the information about X and myself. She knows some of what we've done in the past," said Y.

"Then she knows too much," X added. "Rogers has to be eliminated."

"What? Can we not just Obliviate her?" I asked.

"She has a Pensieve. All the Senior Aurors do. Her memories would still be accessible," he answered.

"She has a strong mind," said Y. "Obliviating her would require a lot of power, and likely result in her losing her memories almost utterly."

"Y, you…" I trailed off, hardly believing that he was happy with this.

He raised an eyebrow in reply. He had no qualms about killing someone he openly admitted to liking. The man was an enigma to me.

"She threatens the entire operation. What if she exposed us?" X pressed.

I appealed to Arthur and Kingsley.

"What if Hermione exposed us?" I said. "Would we kill her too?"

"It will not come to that. Miss Granger won't discover us. I've got her up to her neck in reformation requests," said Kingsley, resting his chin on his hands in thought.

"I'm with Harry on this. We can't kill an Auror," said Arthur, looking deeply troubled.

"I will do it. It'll look like an accident. She'll be caught in the crossfire, in the thick of battle," said Y. "She will die a hero's death."

"No, she'll be assassinated!" I said.

The room was silent for a few moments.

"Why don't we recruit her instead? She could join _Merlin._" I asked.

"She's not nearly powerful enough."

"She's an Auror," I argued.

"She's a good detective, sure, but she's not like us."

"We could train her."

"No, we can't. It'd take too much time. Time we don't have."

"She's an innocent person!"

"Collateral damage, Harry," said X.

"I don't accept that," I replied, angry.

Kingsley raised his hand for silence.

"She has not outed us yet. We'll leave it for now, but we must be prepared to take action...one way or another."

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

Ignoring Professor Flitwick's lecturing on the correct use of self-levitation spells, I doodled in my notebook, drawing lazy scribbles on the ink blotched pages.

Sun shone through the high windows in the classroom. It was unusually warm for spring, and the windows were open. I could feel the slight breeze, and longed to get outside, to go flying.

"Miss Weasley?"

I was snapped out of my reverie by the diminutive Professor.

"Your broom will have to wait until this afternoon. Please pay attention."

"Yes Professor."

I sighed, and began to take notes.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

Sipping on a hot tea, I sat in an alcove high above the gallery in the Wizengamot Chamber.

Watching the proceedings in my spare time had become something of a habit, and I had grown to appreciate the chaos in my time here.

This morning was no different, with the Press Corps assembled for a brief conference with the Minister.

As if on cue, Kingsley took the stand.

"Good morning. Before I take questions, I'd like to make a brief announcement: following the successes of the MLE, I am pleased to announce a relaxation of the security measures we recently implemented."

"What about _dar-jach?_"

"Dar-jach will remain in place at this stage. I believe it is too early to remove all measures, and dar-jach has been effective. However, we will review its implementation frequently. I for one don't like it anymore than you do."

"Do you plan on officially recognising and awarding the wizards and witches directly responsible for the attack on the Death Eaters?"

"No. Many have name suppression in order to protect their identities. The gratitude of a thankful nation is recognition enough, and they have been privately commended."

"Minister, as the attacks and counterassaults against terrorists such as the Death Eaters continue, one can't help but wonder about the whereabouts of Harry Potter. Surely his support in these times would be of great assistance to the wizarding world. To that end, have you had any further luck in finding him?"

"Although our priorities lie with the protection of our people, there is a small and dedicated task force assigned with finding Harry Potter. I understand that they are working on a number of leads, but Mr Potter remains elusive. I still have faith that Harry will return to us when he feels ready to do so."

"You recently named Hermione Granger as a member of the Reformation Bureau. Can you give us some insight into her appointment, her role, and what the Bureau will focus on?"

"Miss Granger, as you all know, is an exceptional young witch, and I'm delighted that she's accepted the post. As a Muggle-born, she knows firsthand the ugly prejudice and challenges that title brings. That, combined with her courage and fierce intellect, made her an obvious choice. She has expressed an interest in working on the rights of Magical Creatures. The Bureau as a whole aims to rid the Ministry of corruption, increase its efficiency, and improve it so that we may better serve the people of Wizarding Britain."

"Are you saying there is corruption inside your Ministry?"

"There is corruption inside every organisation. No body of people is perfect. But our aspirations are for a better Ministry, and you can't fault us for that. That's all for today, thank you."

I made my way to Arthur's office.

"Mind if I have a word?"

"By all means, Harry."

"How's Molly?"

"Holding up. George is taking a toll on her, and I'm gone long hours."

Arthur's face looked weary, and his eyes gave away a terrible hurt. I realised that he had sacrificed just as much - if not more than the rest of us - to be here.

And he was risking his family's trust in him.

"How is he?"

"Managing. He's out of St Mungo's now. Ron is running the shop almost singlehandedly. He misses you too - whenever he's got free time, he helps Hermione research your whereabouts."

"Are they close?"

He shook his head. "No. But enough about my family. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Something that happened on a mission."

"You haven't told the others?"

"No, I'd prefer you kept this to yourself."

"I will."

"Thank you. Well, when Y and I went to the housing estate, I came across something."

"And…?"

"There was a Boggart. It became…"

"It became … me."

"You're afraid of yourself?" asked Arthur, with a hint of confusion.

"No," I replied, then added in a tone barely above a whisper:

"I'm afraid of what I might become."

Arthur studied me sombrely.

"Harry, every day you deal with the darkest of evils - sometimes even harnessing that dark power when the light has no defence - and you're a solider fighting in an invisible war. That means you have to do things you're not necessarily proud of."

"But despite all that, you are still Harry. I still see the courageous, noble, and _good _person you are. You haven't lost that, and you won't. Your parents would be so proud of the sacrifice you're making to protect the world, and I know they'd do the same if they were in your position."

I gave a small smile.

"Thank you."

"Any time, Harry."

I got up from my seat.

"Arthur, about Amy Rogers -"

"I won't let it happen," said Arthur.

"We can't go that far."

"I know, Harry. You do too. And that's one of the things that separates you from X and Y."

* * *

><p>Amy Rogers poured over her notes.<p>

The mystery of who had raided the Death Eater hideout had eaten away at her for the last few days.

Tapping her wand to her temple, she took a thin silvery strand of consciousness and deposited it into a glass cylinder. It would be added to her Pensieve when she returned home.

A knock came from the door.

"Rogers?"

"Come in!"

One of her colleagues entered.

"We need to go over the assault tactics for tonight."

"Okay, give me a minute."

Amy rose from her seat and stretched, thoughts of attacks on Death Eaters and the mysterious man she only knew as Y crossing through her mind.

* * *

><p>Deep underground, Kingsley sat in a dimly lit room with X and Y.<p>

"How much does she know - really?"

"Too much. She's figured out that we took part in the last raid. And that there was a third person too," said Y. "She's got her suspicions about Harry too."

"How do you know?"

"I snuck into her Pensieve."

"Where was she?" asked Kingsley.

"In bed."

"Spying on the people you sleep with?"

Y shrugged. "I spy on everybody."

"Right. I'm going to make a decision on Miss Rogers. If it comes to it-"

"Make it look like an accident?" asked Y.

"Yes," the Minister replied.

"Okay."

"She's a good Auror, and the Department needs her. If she pieces together Wrath of Merlin, though, the consequences could be … damaging."

"Minister, is this a political decision or a tactical one?" X asked.

"Is there a difference?"

"Fair enough."

"One more thing. We know Rogers has been meeting with Hermione Granger recently." "How do you know?"

"Mysteries has been keeping an eye on Granger. We're wary of what she might do. Understandably, transparency isn't our strong suite."

"I'm confident they're discussing Harry's location."

"Keep an eye on it." The Minister checked his watch. "I've got a meeting now. Be ready for the MLE briefing this afternoon."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

Under my Invisibility Cloak, I entered the MLE briefing room with X and Y, and stood along the back wall.

A Senior Auror stood and addressed the room.

"You are here today because you have been handpicked to lead this raid against what we believe is the last stronghold of Death Eaters left in Wizarding Britain."

"Intelligence has given us their location."

A shimmering diagram of a warehouse appeared in the air, and began rotating slowly.

"As you can see, it's an old packing warehouse. Three storeys. The ground floor is still used, but the first and second floors have fallen into disrepair."

"It's located in a Muggle industrial area that has fallen into disuse for the most part."

The diagram expanded to show the surroundings of the warehouse.

"Hitwizards will set and maintain a perimeter. Anti-apparition, Category Three wards, and Muggle-Repellant, obviously.

"The Aurors will lead the assault - focusing their attack here, here and here."

The Auror pointed to the diagram with his wand.

"A second squad of Hitwizards will act as backup to the Aurors, and will follow them into the building here."

"Mediwizards will be on standby, with MLE officers ready to transport captives into custody."

"You'll be given greater detail by your commanding officers later. Let's make this a good one! Now, the media have been told that the MLE are not authorised to use lethal force. I am here to tell you otherwise. Ideally, we want these bastards alive, but if it comes to it, kill them. Do not hesitate. They won't. Do you understand?"

A murmur of consensus came from the group.

"Good. That's all for now. Dismissed."

The group of wizards and witches dispersed from the briefing room to begin their preparations.

* * *

><p>We met in the Minister's office once again.<p>

"The Aurors are going in first - I want them to take the lead of this, make them feel like they're actually doing their job," said Kingsley.

"And we'll be ready to intervene if necessary," said X.

"It should be fairly straightforward. I'm sure the Aurors will be able to handle it," Kingsley replied.

As the sky darkened, we made our way to the site with a Portkey.

A full battalion of the MLE were already there - Aurors, Hitwizards, and Mediwizards. We moved past them as they made hushed preparations.

From an abandoned apartment across the street from the warehouse, we had an overview of the proceedings. A MLE wireless sat on a table, and we could hear the communications through it.

"_Unit One ready."_

"_Affirmative. Unit Two ready."_

"_Stand by."_

"_Perimeter established and holding. Muggles at bay. No one's going in or out."_

"_Waiting on order." "Confirmed sighting inside target building." "Roger that." "Unit three ready." "The Minister is on the line now."_

"_We have the order. Engage."_

"_GO! GO! GO!"_

At our vantage point in the apartment, we watched as the Aurors smashed through several side windows and a small door, moving their way quickly into the warehouse.

X gave an unimpressed grunt.

"No stealth," remarked Y.

A squad of Hitwizards followed the Aurors in.

Coloured flashes could be seen from several of the windows. The fight had begun.

A few minutes in, an explosion suddenly rocked our surroundings. Smoke billowed from an entrance to the warehouse.

"_Perimeter stable. Hitwizards on standby."_

"_Will advise if required."_

"_Casualties confirmed. Two injured. Mediwizards ready."_

A green flash shot past a window.

"_AHH!"_

The wireless cut out. Then Kingsley's voice came crackling through.

"_X, they're trapped."_

"We'll engage," X replied.

"_Harry, stay hidden unless absolutely necessary."_

With a quick gesture, X signalled us forward.

"It's our turn. Let's go." Casting defensive charms, we moved into the building.

But we didn't just walk into a warehouse.

We walked into a battlefield.

Jets of green light streamed overhead, accompanied by jeers and shouts.

The Death Eaters had the MLE forces hopelessly outnumbered and outmatched.

One of the Hitwizards broke cover to fire back, stretching out an arm to fire a barrage of Stunning spells.

A moment later, a curse slashed his arm clean off, and he collapsed to the ground screaming.

X and Y immediately dove into action. X conjured a series of defensive charms to protect the Hitwizards as Y - pulling out a second wand he'd taken from a Death Eater - cast a barrage of white lightning at their assailants.

Still hidden by my Cloak, I began levitating the injured into cover.

The reprieve granted by Y's onslaught gave a few of the MLE enough time to retreat, but it didn't last long.

Soon, Y was stretched, duelling several opponents at once. X joined the attack, and as I levitated the last of the injured, he grabbed a silver canister from his belt and flung it at the Death Eaters.

The canister released a blinding flash that was accompanied by an acrid stench, but it gave the two wizards time to retreat into cover beside me and Amy.

"Why are you here?" she demanded.

"We heard there was a party," answered Y.

"That's not -"

A curse cut a line across Amy's shoulder, and she cried out in sudden pain.

Y grabbed her, and shoved her behind a dividing wall.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it just stung."

Another spell flew past inches from X.

"Shit!" yelled X.

We were pinned. The Death Eaters had outmanoeuvred us.

"Harry, we're going to need you," said X.

I removed my Invisibility Cloak.

"Merlin, it's you!" exclaimed Amy, shocked. "I knew it…how… why this?"

"We don't have time to discuss this. We have a job to do!" said X.

"We have to get out of here!" Amy replied.

"No. We finish them!" I replied.

"What?"

"This is what we do!" shouted Y over the noise.

"I…I don't…"

A Killing Curse landed a few feet from us.

"Shit!" X yelled again. "Harry, go!"

I nodded, and twisting my wand, conjured an inky black sphere. Pure energy crackled around the sphere. I could feel the power intensify within the sphere as I fed my magic into the curse.

Amy looked on, her eyes wide.

"That's Dark Magic!"

"I know," I replied grimly.

I exhaled slowly, and then looked at Y.

"Cover me."

He nodded, and I sprang into action.

I broke cover, and flung the sphere of dark energy at the Death Eaters, before diving back behind the rubble.

The sphere blazed towards the Death Eaters. One recognised the curse, and ran. Another fired a Killing Curse at the sphere. The green jet was swallowed up by the inky blackness.

And then it detonated.

The pain of the curse brought me to my knees, and I gritted my teeth against it.

But the price I would pay was nothing in comparison to that of my assailants.

The curse would not harm walls, or cloth, or steel.

The curse hungered only for flesh.

The dark energy exploded outwards, tearing through living flesh with an insatiable hunger.

It would leave only skeletons in its terrible wake.

As I bore the pain, I could hear Y offer an explanation to Amy.

"This is Operation Wrath of Merlin. Us and Potter,"

"You're dark ops...Mysteries assassins!"

"You cannot tell a soul, do you understand?"

"Yes, but, I … what -"

"Questions later! Let's go!" shouted X. "To the stairwell!"

We broke cover again, and dashed into the stairwell.

"I'll take the top floor, Y, take the middle. Harry, everything down here is yours!" directed X.

X and Y made their way up the stairs, casting blue fire to deter any assailants.

There were still a couple of Death Eaters on the ground floor, and moving back through it, I dispatched them with clinical Killing Curses. Suddenly, there came a second explosion. The ceiling caved through, wooden beams and plaster crashing down to the floor, leaving much of the first floor open to us.

As the dust cleared, shadowy figures began firing shots down upon us, and I made for cover, returning fire.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Amy dive into cover behind some rubble from the ceiling.

Too late I realised that she had made a mistake.

From a vantage point by an upstairs doorway, one of the Death Eaters had a clear shot at her.

He took it.

* * *

><p>AN: Cliffhanger...next chapter will be up soon. Thanks for reading and please review!


	7. Two Minutes

A slower pace in this chapter - it was a bit harder to write, as it's basically a bridge threading the plot together. Next chapter will be up far sooner! Thanks for reading, and please review!

**VII: Two Minutes**

_Harry_

Amy Rogers never saw the green flash that took her life.

It slammed into her, and I saw her body contort with the impact of the spell, her head lolling to one side with the blank expression that only someone taken by the Killing Curse could wear.

And then her body crumpled to the ground.

From upstairs, I heard a cry of rage.

"HE'S MINE!"

Y blasted through one of the walls, levitating himself through with a stolen wand, and conjuring white lightning with his own.

He brought his wand around in a sweeping arc, and tore the first floor to shreds with a ferocity nothing could withstand.

The Death Eater who had killed Amy began to run.

Y dropped his stolen wand - remaining levitated in the middle of the building by some means - and reached out his hand in a snatching motion. The Death Eater collapsed to the floor in a full body-bind.

I did not wait around. A spell whistled past me, and I sprang back into action. I called forth a torrent of blue fire, and directed it down the hall. A black-clad figure shot a slashing beam of purple light towards me. I fired inky black lightning that tore through his curse and blew a hole through his chest.

I heard an explosion from the top floor. X too, was on the attack.

I stepped over a dead Auror, disarmed a Death Eater that rushed towards me and followed with a Killing Curse that hit its mark.

A second explosion came from the top floor, and I looked up to see X crash through the ceiling gripping a kicking Death Eater beneath him. They flew past Y and slammed into the concrete with a sickening _crunch._

X stood, and dusted off his robes, before looking at the mangled body of his human crash-pad.

"He should've used a Cushioning Charm," he said casually.

Above us, Y was coming to a descent, levitating the Death Eater he had bound with him.

The Death Eater's eyes were wide with fright.

"You killed her," Y said.

He was eerily calm, his voice holding only the slightest hint of malice.

"I liked her, and you killed her. You killed her."

Y's eyes flashed.

"_Crucio."_

His voice was quiet. The screams from the Death Eater were anything but.

X looked on, his jaw set.

"She was a hundred, no, a thousand times the person you will ever be. D'you understand that?"

The curse intensified, and the Death Eater's cries grew even louder. He writhed on the floor in pain, his heels knocking against the concrete.

"Would you like to know something about the Cruciatus Curse?" Y said, kneeling. "If my wand comes into contact with your body, the pain increases even more."

"Like _this,_" he said, stabbing his wand down on his victim's knee.

_Crack! _The kneecap popped, and the Death Eater let out a fresh yell.

"Or this."

The wand was pointed at the Death Eater's crotch. The stench of urine filled the air as he wet himself. The stain on his robes, however, was blood red.

"And did you know that I could stop your heart in the same manner?"

Y moved his wand past the man's chest, however, and repositioned himself to grab the man in a one-armed headlock.

"But that's too easy. If your heart gives out, you're gone. Nice and clean. Pain's over for you. That's what you want. But I've a better idea."

Y's voice was still soft, chillingly so.

"I'm going to put my wand in your ear."

A moan came from the man on the floor. Even in his lucid state, he understood.

"The ear is quite a remarkable part of the human body. It has an attachment to several prominent nerves, and its proximity to the brain means that it is particularly sensitive to pain."

Meticulously, Y pressed his wand into the Death Eater's ear canal.

"Welcome to the last two minutes of your life."

I averted my eyes.

"_Crucio."_

I could hear the man as he thrashed about on the floor, held down only by Y's vice-grip around his neck. I looked back to see his back impossibly arched, and spasms shoot through him as he struggled in vain. His feet drummed an unsteady beat on the floor. The blood-curling scream that pierced the air was unbearable to listen to. Suddenly, his left eye burst in it's socket, followed shortly by the other.

After what seemed like an age, the scream stopped, and I witnessed the last of his death throes. Blood was still trickling from his ears and nose, and white froth had formed at the corners of his mouth. Flecks of spittle and blood had splattered his robes.

"Can we get a move on now?" said X, seemingly unfazed.

"Sure," Y replied, standing up and dusting his robes down. He fixed us with a questioning expression. "What's next?"

X started to walk away, not replying. I turned to follow, stealing one last look at the body that before Y had met, was still a recognisable, living person.

Once again, I was reminded of the true nature of the man walking ahead of me. He could crack a joke about anything, relax in an armchair with a Butterbeer like a student at a Quidditch Party, peruse the morning paper with a cup of tea, or take a drag on a cigar after a long day with ease. I'd seen him do all these things.

But with that same unnerving ease, I'd seen him take a life with the Cruciatus Curse in a way so horrific that it would stay, scarred into my memory, forever.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

"Ginny, Amy Rogers was killed last night," said Hermione over breakfast.

"How?" I said, shocked. A wave of sadness washed over me.

"She was taking part in an MLE raid. The Death Eaters knew they were coming. They were ambushed."

"Oh."

It was all I could say.

"I mean, I was only talking to her the other day. It's all so surreal," said Hermione.

"It's terrible."

I felt a keen sense of loss. A good person was no longer with us.

"The service is tomorrow morning. We should go."

"Yeah," I nodded.

Hermione sighed.

"Part of me thought that this would be easier now, Ginny. But it's not. You never get used to death."

* * *

><p>The next day, Hermione and I arrived at the service. Grey skies accompanied patchy rain. The atmosphere was thoroughly gloomy.<p>

I saw an elderly couple were dressed in sullen black. Tears were running down the woman's face. Perhaps they were her parents.

Hermione and I took a couple of seats close to the back.

"Ron wanted to come, but he couldn't find enough cover at the shop," Hermione said, making small talk.

"Why doesn't he take an advisor position at the Ministry? I heard that he was offered one," I asked, realising with a pang of disappointment that I hadn't spoken or written to my closest brother in a long time.

"He said some things are more important than advising the Ministry," Hermione answered, a peculiar note of pride in her voice.

"Yeah…how are you two, anyway?"

Hermione smiled. It stood out in stark contrast to the solemn occasion.

"We're good. It just feels right, being with him."

I made a face, and she giggled.

"Hermione, when are you going to bring back your parents?"

"When it's safe."

Her eyes were somewhere far away.

I looked around. There were a fair number of senior officials. I saw my Dad speaking with a couple of red-clad Aurors.

And at the back, standing against the wall were two Unspeakables, clad in dark blue robes with silver cuffs.

Both had identical grim looks on their faces.

Shortly, the service began. Kingsley took the podium.

Camera flashes went off as he begun.

"Today is a somber day for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Auror Office. Today is a somber day for us all. In our sorrow, we celebrate the life of Amy Rogers, mourn her passing, and remember her heroism."

"This morning, a reporter asked me: how many of us will come home in body bags?"

"My answer is this: no more."

"Today, I am pleased to announce that the Rogers Bill will be sent to the Wizengamot. It will give the MLE greater powers against the forces of evil. It will also increase the minimum penalty for assaulting or injuring a MLE Officer - be they Auror, Hitwizard or Squad Member."

_Flash. Flash._

More cameras.

This wasn't a funeral. It was a press conference.

I felt sick.

Kingsley resumed speaking:

"Amy Rogers was tough, but had a great kindness inside her. Those who knew her can attest to that."

"She was protector of the weak, an ally of liberty, and a enemy of evil. Her death in battle was untimely, and her sacrifice an example to us all. She will forever be remembered by all of us as a champion of justice."

"Thank you."

He sat to a round of applause. I did not join in.

After the service, Hermione and I mingled.

Kingsley walked over to us

"Hello, Hermione, Ginny," he greeted in his deep timbre.

"Hi Minister," I replied, pointedly polite.

"Did you know Amy?" Kingsley asked, curiousity evident on his face.

"We met a few times. She gave me some advice on the MLE. It felt right to pay our respects," Hermione said simply.

He nodded.

"I'm sure she would've appreciated you coming today. It was good to see you both," he said, moving away to begin a conversation with a grey-haired warlock.

"Well, that was pleasant," I said sourly.

"Mmm," Hermione murmured in agreement.

* * *

><p>That same afternoon, Y took a seat in Kingsley's office.<p>

"How did you do it?" asked the Minister for Magic, his voice betraying troubled thoughts.

"I let the Death Eater kill her," Y replied simply. "I could've stopped it. I chose not to."

"Harry must never know," Kingsley said.

"I know," replied Y. "I know the game. And I know the stakes."

"Good. If he was to find out, I don't know what he'd do."

"He won't ask. I used the Cruciatus to kill the Death Eater."

A sickened look crossed Kingsley's face.

"Anyone else would serve a life sentence in Azkaban for that," the Minister admonished.

"We have a deal Kingsley. If X or I die, we don't get a gushy farewell at a Ministry funeral. We just get a few feet of earth. No one will remember us. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather face opponents who are terror-stricken about hearing the shit we're prepared to do to them."

"How did Harry take it?"

"Hated it. Could see it on his face. But he didn't object."

"No?"

"He no longer questions our kills, Kingsley. He is less remorseful, less hesitant. He is becoming more like us, a little at a time."

"The student has learned from his masters," Kingsley commented.

"He's getting stronger too. Soon, his power will rival yours or mine," Y added. "And in some ways already, his strength is beyond our own."

"Is he ready?" questioned the Minister.

"Only time will tell."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I did not attend Amy's funeral.

I could not.

I had failed her. It had been my job to protect her, and I had been more focused on fighting Death Eaters than defending her.

I reminded myself that I had not killed Amy. The blame belonged with the Death Eater that had cast the Killing Curse.

And he had paid the price for his actions. Y's vengeance was an awful thing to behold.

Trying to banish all thoughts of the incident from my head, I went back to studying our most recent intelligence.

* * *

><p>Later, Kingsley looked up from his work at the sound of a knock on his office door.<p>

"Come in," he called out. X entered.

"I've got your numbers," said the Unspeakable, taking a seat.

"What do they say?"

"You're doing well. You're tough on dark magic, tough on crime, and it helps that you're a war hero. And the dip from dar-jach disappeared when the Aurors took out the Death Eaters responsible."

X flicked through a few sheets of parchment.

"80% think that you're a strong leader. Other Ministers would kill to have that kind of clout."

"However, a considerable number dislike that you're secretive."

"What's considerable?"

"27%"

"And your aloof numbers haven't dropped either. But overwhelmingly, you're still seen as the best man for the job."

"Moreover, with Arthur on the ticket, that boosts your trust, and everyman appeal."

"Now, the business end. What would Wrath of Merlin do to my numbers?" asked Kingsley.

"If it came out, it would be disastrous."

"Trust would drop through the floor. Even with Arthur. It'd be seen as massive betrayal of the wizarding population."

"Merlin."

"And that's not the worst part. Most wouldn't vote for you again."

"It's not surprising, after what happened in the war. The Ministry of Magic run like a secretive dictatorship, a millennia of due process and tradition disregarded by the very people who fought to save it."

"Fuck, even Fudge wouldn't pull the shit we're trying to pull."

"You've got to win an election in 18 months time."

"So if Wrath of Merlin comes out, how do I win?"

"Harry is your ticket home. An endorsement from Harry should keep you safe."

"I can't keep using him. What happens if the public turn against him? It's happened before."

"Harry can weather it better than you can. He's the saviour of the wizarding world. People don't forget that in a hurry."

"Yeah," said Kingsley, deep in thought.

"Where is he?"

"Reading up on the Azkaban prisoners down in the Department. We're headed there to do some interrogation."

"Let me know how it goes."

X left the Minister for Magic alone, and like so many times in his solitude, Kingsley wondered if he was indeed doing the right thing.

* * *

><p>At the end of her day, Hermione flooed from the Atrium to Diagon Alley and walked the short distance to her flat. Opening her door, she found a package wrapped in brown paper lying on the floor. A note was attached.<p>

_Dear Hermione,_

_Here's the information I was telling you about. Most of it's classified, and I could potentially do time in The Holt if this is linked back to me. I don't need to stress how important it is to keep it safe._

_We're about to undertake an MLE raid, so I'll discuss this with you further when I return._

_Best,_

_Amy _

Hermione paused, before folding the note up carefully.

This was Amy's parting gift. A dual sensation of sadness and excitement washed over the brown haired witch. Sadness for the woman who had made the ultimate sacrifice; excitement for the legacy she had left behind, that it might hold the key to the mystery of Harry's whereabouts.

Tearing open the brown packaging, Hermione began to read.

* * *

><p>AN: As a reminder to anyone unsure, 'MLE' refers to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

When fleshing the wizarding world out, I wanted to add places that would fit into the world. An example of this is Rue Magique - it makes sense that the French have their own Diagon Alley of sorts.

"The Holt" is an MLE stronghold in the South of England along the lines of 1 Police Plaza in NYC, but separate from the Ministry of Magic itself. JKR also mentioned other prisons beside Azkaban in one of her interviews (I think) so I've created "Barden's Keep" as a prison on the mainland.

I also have X in charge of polling for Kingsley. I figure a regular pollster can't know about Wrath of Merlin, or ask subtle questions relating to it. Numbers are a crucial element in politics, and the political nature of the Ministry is an area I aim to cover in this story, because I've never read anything that does look into it (of course, if anyone does know of such a story, please let me know).


	8. 4F 360 98

A/N: A quick note regarding Harry's character. I understand that some readers may think that his actions in this story are uncharacteristic. Let me explain my reasoning.

In Deathly Hallows, Harry uses the Cruciatus Curse on multiple Death Eaters - Amycus Carrow the most notable example. Harry tortures Carrow in defence _and retaliation _of someone who he cares immensely for - Minerva McGonagall.

I'm taking that aspect of his character and amplifying it perhaps more than JKR ever would, but that's the beauty of fan fiction. It exists to fundamentally explore stories and characters, and answer questions that aren't necessarily answered by the author.

Anyway - on with the story!

* * *

><p><strong>VIII. 4F-360-98<strong>

There is a tiny island - unchartered by Muggles - somewhere in the North Sea.

And on this island, there is a fortress made of iron and black stone.

High, unforgiving walls and a terrible darkness guard the prisoners kept there.

But this fortress is no ordinary prison. It is a prison of magic.

They call it Azkaban.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

My first impression of Azkaban could be summed up by a single word: _bleak_.

Waves crashed on the rocks that made up the island, and a driving rain lashed the black stone of the fortress. A howling wind constantly battered at my eardrums.

This was arguably the single most unpleasant place on Earth.

"_Hospitable _wasn't exactly what they had in mind when they built this place," quipped Y.

I had no problem agreeing with him.

As the boat we were on drew close to the island, the wards surrounding it bore down on me.

"Merlin!" I exclaimed.

"Everyone reacts like that the first time," X said.

The wards surrounding Hogwarts - some of the most powerful magical defences ever devised - were designed to be discreet.

The wards surrounding Azkaban were anything but.

Immense magical pressure washed over me. I could feel my magic being stifled. Suddenly, I felt dizzy.

I had new respect for Sirius, putting up with that for all those years.

We reached a small pier, and we disembarked quickly. The pier lead to a narrow - but thankfully covered - stone stairway.

At the top of the stairway was a tall iron door, carved with runes.

"It's the only entrance in or out."

X tapped his wand to the door three times, muttering an incantation. With a coarse grinding noise, the door began to swing slowly inwards. It came to rest with a dull thud. X led the way inside.

Immediately, I was hit with a feeling of abject despair. There was no hope or light in this place.

Only pure misery.

I paused, leaning against a wall for support.

"Deal with it, Harry. Think of a happy memory," said X.

I steadied myself, and started walking again - wondering how on earth X and Y managed happy memories.

"There are no prisoners on this level. Most are kept higher up, and then there a couple in the Pit," X continued.

"The Pit?"

"You really don't want to know. But you'll see."

X pointed to a rack of torches, all alight with a bright blue flame.

"Here, grab one. The Dementors won't bother you."

"And it'll help you see," added Y, taking note of our dim surroundings.

"I thought Kingsley was getting rid of the Dementors," I said.

X snorted. "That's the official story. But ask yourself - if you had an army of prison wardens who had the power to suck the soul out of a person, would you let them go?"

"Hell, where would you send them? This place is as much a prison for them as well. And how many members of the public ever come here? The answer is none. Believe me, Harry, this is the best place for the Dementors."

He had a point.

"Where's the one we wanted?" I asked.

"He's in the Pit."

We entered into a large open space. Stairs led up to the higher levels. Faint sounds came from the cells. Everywhere I looked, a Dementor hovered nearby - thankfully keeping enough distance. A single flight of stairs went downwards.

We went down.

Water dripped from the passageway that led down into the earth. The narrow stairs were steep and glistened black. The wards grew even stronger as we went further into the earth. Finally, the stairway broadened and we entered a cavernous chamber deep beneath the island.

In the middle of the cavern was a deep pit. About twenty great chains - each thicker than a person - dropped down into the hole.

I went to the edge of the pit, leaning over a guard rail close to the edge and immediately wished I hadn't.

The chains receded into darkness.

A darkness made up by - there was no other word for it - a _swarm_ of thousands of Dementors.

"This was originally built to contain Grindelwald. But he ended up in Nuremgard. Dumbledore refused to let him be imprisoned here," said Y, joining me at the edge.

"He said that Grindelwald was a monster, but he was still human."

"Since that time, it was used as a form of punishment for prisoners who didn't behave."

"Like solitary confinement?" I asked.

"Something like that, yeah."

X had walked around to the other side, and tapped his wand to one of a row of winches lining the rear of the cavern.

One of the massive chains began to rise, inching slowly upwards.

Finally, the thing attached to the end of the chain began to appear.

It was a golden cage, and stood out in stark relief to the inky blackness.

Inside the cage laid a comatose figure dressed in the simple grey robes of the prisoners of Azkaban.

"They stay in a kind of coma whilst in the Pit. It's the only way they stay sane."

"How does they eat?"

"They don't. The cages magically sustain them."

"I almost think I'd prefer death," I remarked.

"You wouldn't be the only one. Several prisoners, rather than be caged down there, jumped into the Pit. It's half a mile to the bottom."

"And if the fall doesn't kill them, then the Dementors will."

X had levitated the prisoner out of his cage.

"Let's go back up. I don't want to spend any time down here I don't have to."

As we left, I wondered if Sirius had ever spent any time in the Pit.

He had never mentioned it to me. I could understand why.

We made our way back to the ground level.

Y sat the prisoner roughly in a chair, before magically binding him securely.

"Veritaserum?" asked Y.

"No. I want to know what he'll say if he's not compelled to tell the truth," X replied.

Y nodded, and revived the grey-robed figureas I went invisible.

"Ugh…" the man groaned.

"Can you see us?"

The man blinked, trying to get his bearings.

Y slapped his face.

"Focus. You can hear me?"

"Ugh…yes."

"Good. Now, listen."

"There are two ways we can do this. If you cooperate, we will testify at your trial in your favour. You will receive life imprisonment in Barden's Keep instead of this hellhole. If you don't, my friend here will break into your mind, find out what we need to know with Legilimency, and then we'll call in the Dementors. Understand?"

"You're not MLE," said the Death Eater, his voice rusty.

"I'm glad you noticed. Is that a yes or no?" Y asked.

"Yes."

"What is your full name?"

"William Nichols."

"Why are you here?"

"I am a Death Eater."

"You were captured shortly after the fall of Voldemort, is that correct?"

"You don't deserve to say the Dark Lord's name!"

"I don't give a fuck as to what you think I deserve. I asked you a question," Y said forcefully.

"Yes. That's correct," Nichols said.

"Okay. According to our information, you were part of a group of Death Eaters that led research into arcane forms of Dark Magic."

"It was an assignment that the Dark Lord handpicked me for personally. It was of the utmost importance."

"What did you work on?"

"New weapons - curses, ways of mass-murdering Mudbloods."

"Genocide?"

Nichols shrugged.

"If you want to call it that."

"I think I do." Y's voice had a hard edge to it.

"I have reports that you experimented with captured Muggleborns."

"Is that true?"

"Yes."

"And you tested the weapons you were trying to develop on these people."

"Yes." "Tell me about the Death Eaters."

"What do you mean?"

"The structure - the chain of command, so to speak."

"We only answered to the Dark Lord."

"You must have had generals, or lieutenants."

"The Dark Lord had his inner circle - the Death Eaters who had joined him first, or who had known him at Hogwarts."

"Lucius Malfoy, for example."

Y nodded.

"They were his most favoured, and orders were often relayed through them."

"We could gain favour though, and be rewarded if we were successful in a task, and that way, we'd move up the ranks."

"What kind of tasks?"

"There were the Death Eaters who ran the Ministry, those who did research like myself, the best duellists ran combat squads, some would hunt down Undesirables…"

"Any idea how many?"

"There were about thirty in the Dark Lord's inner circle. The rest of us were split into groups all over the country."

"How big was your group?"

"There were 84 of us."

"How many groups?"

"I don't know, but the Dark Lord took four groups with him when he went to attack Hogwarts."

Y shared a look with X. If four groups had gone to Hogwarts, and that had been a rough third of Voldemort's forces, that meant at the height of his power, Voldemort had commanded close to a thousand Death Eaters. That didn't even begin to take into account low level soldiers like the Snatchers.

Y continued his questioning.

* * *

><p>I left the interrogation and made my way up to the higher cells. The odd Dementor passed by me, but they all gave me a wide berth. I was thankful for the torch I grasped in my hand.<p>

I moved up the levels, pausing to peer into the odd cell.

Sykes. Leary. Boone. Macnair.

Each name matched a face I had studied, a file I had browsed.

Each had killed innocents.

I restrained myself. I was not here to set the place alight with Killing Curses.

But there was one person I wanted to see.

A Dementor hovered in mid-air outside her cell.

I removed my Invisibility Cloak.

She sat on the cold floor, in filthy grey prison rags, a number stitched to the front.

Prisoner 4F-360-98.

Dolores Umbridge.

Months here had driven her close to breaking.

But with my appearance, she had been brought back to startling sanity.

"It's… it's you! Why… why are you here?"

"I wanted to see for myself," I answered simply.

"So you've come to taunt me?"

"You chose the wrong side, _Professor._ That's why you're locked in this cell, and I'm not."

She did not reply.

With a wave of my hand, I unlocked her cell, and stepped inside. She watched on, eyes wide as I broke through the prison's defences.

"Or have you come to kill me?"

"I'm not entirely sure I wouldn't be doing you a favour, and I'm not happy with that. If anyone deserves to suffer, it's you," I answered.

I conjured a chair, and sat.

"Tell me," I began, "why _did _you side with Tom Riddle? I know you hate Muggle-borns. You know my mother was a Muggle-born. And I know you hate - half-breeds, you call them. Like werewolves. Remus Lupin was a werewolf. His son was orphaned by this war."

"So why?"

"Please, you must understand that I only did it all out of fear, Harry! You must understand that! I could've been killed! What was I to do?" she simpered.

"You mustn't tell lies, Umbridge," I said, rising to my feet.

"What do you mean?" she said in confusion, backing away from me.

"You. Must. Not. Tell. Lies."

With my hand, I levitated her into the air so that she was eye level with me. I stared into her bulging eyes.

"I have become an accomplished Legilimens. I can see into your mind. You don't have any remorse for the people you sentenced to rot here, the families you tore apart, the children you made orphans of."

"I have strength beyond your wildest comprehension now. I know your heart, and it is black. You're evil. Given the opportunity, you would do it all again. You loved the power, loved what you did."

I released her, and she fell to the floor.

"So the rumours are true…" she murmured.

"Rumours?"

"There is talk - I have heard only snippets - that you are hunting. Hunting us. What happens once we're all gone, Harry? What will sate your bloodlust then?"

"I don't have a bloodlust!"

"Than why are you in my cell?" she asked, a spark of shrewdness behind her eyes. Whatever her faults, Umbridge did have a demented intelligence.

"I don't have a bloodlust," I repeated. "What I have is the desire to see justice done."

"And what happens when that desire leads you to become the very thing you hunt?"

Something in me snapped.

"I am nothing like him!"

She drew back at my outburst. I composed myself.

"I can't forgive you, Umbridge, because to do that would be an insult to the memories of the lives you took away. You committed a heinous crime, and for that your punishment must be equally so."

She scuttled towards my feet, grovelling on the filthy cell floor. It was pathetic. I felt disgusted.

"Please Harry… give me a second chance…" she begged, her voice sickly sweet.

"How many people did you give a second chance to?"

"I…"

She could not finish her sentence.

I vanished the chair, and walked out of the cell, locking it with a gesture. The Dementor guarding it shrank away a few inches from my presence, drawing a rattling breath.

It was afraid of me. Some basic instinct of self-preservation told it that I was a greater predator than it.

I took a look back at the woman who had caused so much pain to so many.

"Do you remember what you did, in the summer before my fifth year?"

She didn't answer.

"Funny how things work out sometimes. Goodbye, Umbridge," I said simply, then turned back to the Dementor.

"Feed."

The Dementor glided through the bars of the cell, fixated on the woman cowering in the corner.

I walked away to the sound of her shrieking, and then, all of a sudden, her shrill cries ceased.

Prisoner 4F-360-98 was no more.

"Where did you go?" X asked me as I returned.

"I found Umbridge."

"Oh?"

"Unfortunately, it looked like a Dementor had gotten to her."

"Pity," Y said, his expression blank.

"How is he doing?" I motioned to the Death Eater sitting prone in the chair.

"We've got what we need."

The interrogation over, we returned Nichols to the Pit, shoving him into the cage and winching him down into the ground.

"Will you really testify for him?" I asked Y.

"No. He can rot in the Pit for all I care."

I felt a strange sense of satisfaction.

"Good."

We left the fortress, the iron door closing shut behind us.

As the boat sped away from the island, a weight I had not known was there lifted off my shoulders.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Azkaban embodied a terrible necessity.

But I would not miss it.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

I sat down with Hermione in the library. A quick _Muffliato_ ensured our conversation wouldn't be overheard.

"What have you got?"

"Before Amy died, she sent me a whole bunch of information."

"Like what?"

"Attacks, raids, missions - you name it - against Death Eaters and Voldemort's supporters that the Auror Office or anyone in the MLE had nothing to do with."

I nodded, and she continued.

"The Aurors would occasionally follow up in the aftermath of these attacks. There were never any survivors."

"Once, an Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries specifically informed her that the Aurors had been reassigned from a particular case, and that it would be dealt by someone else."

"The Department of Mysteries? They don't do that kind of thing, do they?"

"When we went there, we barely scratched the surface, Ginny. Mysteries is the one Department that the Reform Bureau isn't allowed to touch. I don't know what goes on in there. No one does. They have a saying: _The Department of Mysteries exists to deal with things the public are not equipped to handle._"

"So they could be doing something then."

"Yes. Amy thought there was some kind of black ops team."

"A covert assassination squad?"

"Yeah. Take no prisoners kind of thing."

"How does Harry come into it then?"

"Amy didn't confirm it - and to be honest, her evidence is pretty circumstantial - but she thought Harry might be part of it all."

"Harry, part of a black ops team?" I asked, incredulous.

"That was her theory."

"Harry wouldn't kill anyone!" I said, almost angry that Hermione would suggest it.

"Ginny, it's not my theory - it's Amy's. I find it hard to believe too. But then he did kill Voldemort," she reminded me gently.

"Not with the Killing Curse - and only because of the prophecy," I replied.

"Nevertheless, he still killed him. It doesn't matter how he did it. A death is a death."

I was quiet. Hermione, as usual, was right.

But I didn't like to think about it.

"Did she ever see him?"

"No. But she met the two people - the Unspeakables - who are supposedly part of this too."

"Do you think she was right? Do you really think Harry is involved in this?"

"I don't know, Ginny," she replied carefully. "It would explain what he's been doing since he disappeared, but it's hard to picture him coming to terms with killing people. Even Dark Wizards."

"He did say he wanted to be an Auror."

"Yes…but there's a world of difference between a fair trial and imprisonment in Azkaban and taking someone's life by covert assassination. I just don't know, Ginny. I do agree with you. I'm just not sure I can see it in him."

I was silent.

Despite our doubts, part of me couldn't shake the feeling that Amy might just be right.

* * *

><p>Endnote: Hope you enjoyed! Please review!<p> 


	9. Genesis Part I: Orphans

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter – the feedback and analysis is fantastic help.

This is the darkest chapter yet, but one I'm pleased with.

* * *

><p><strong>IX. Genesis Part One: Orphans<strong>

"There is no greater evil than the darkness in the hearts of men."

_Harry_

In our central office within the Department of Mysteries, one of the walls was covered with a massive map. Where there had been an attack by the followers of Voldemort, we had stuck a black pin to the map.

Despite the best efforts of Operation Wrath of Merlin, there were more black pins than ever.

I sighed.

Would this ever end?

It had been a couple of weeks since the raid on the terrorists, and our subsequent visit to Azkaban had given us enough information to keep us occupied deep into the night.

We were well into February. A bitter winter had given way to spring. It had been quieter. _Dar-jach _was present in more places than ever, a constant reminder of the time we lived in. I spent most of it training, learning new spells and sparring with Y.

Deciding on an early night, I trudged into the small bedroom I had down the hall from the main office.

I had only been asleep a few hours when I was roused awake by Kingsley's Patronus.

"Harry, I need to see you in my office."

Noting the tone of urgency, I quickly left my bed. Presently, I was seated in Kingsley's office. Arthur was there too, a worried look on his face.

"Ten minutes ago, the Aurors received word of an attack," Kingsley began.

"Where?" I asked.

They were both silent for a heavy moment, then Arthur answered:

"An orphanage."

I didn't reply, and he looked at me warily.

"The orphanage…was for children who'd lost their families in the war."

"War orphans?"

"Yes."

Sadness turned to cold rage in a matter of moments.

I contemplated their words silently, then questioned them with a low murmur.

"How many were living at the orphanage?"

"Thirty."

"Did anyone survive?"

"We don't think so."

"I'm going to find them," I said, standing. My hands were clenched into trembling fists.

"Harry…"

"Yeah?"

"We…we want X and Y to sort it out."

"What?"

"We think you're emotionally compromised."

"I'm not," I replied flatly. But a voice in my head was telling me that was a lie.

"Harry, you're a war orphan too."

"You don't need to remind me," I said through gritted teeth, my frustration mounting.

"Harry-"

"This was aimed at me! Do y'understand?"

"We don't know that-"

"Of course it bloody was! They did it to provoke me!"

"And they're succeeding! Harry, you have every right to be pissed as hell, but-"

"But nothing! We've been playing catch-up for Merlin knows how long…and I'm sick of it! Months of running after dark wizards, when we should be a step in front of them! I'm ending this, and I'm doing it now!"

"No, you're not!"

"With all due respect, Minister, you don't have the right to tell me what to do!" I yelled.

"Potter, stand down!" shouted Kingsley.

I didn't.

"I was the one who defeated Tom Riddle! I was the one who walked to what I thought would be my death in the Forbidden Forest! Me!" I shouted back. "And I'm the reason why they chose to attack that orphanage!"

"Can't you see? I'm to blame!"

"This is what they want, Harry! This is what they want you to do! You'll be walking into a trap if you personally pursue them," cautioned Arthur, interrupting Kingsley and I.

"I know," I replied, suddenly calm. "And I'm going to do it with or without your support. So you might as well let me."

Kingsley threw a scrutinising look at me.

"I don't want you to do this, but I won't stop you."

I nodded in thanks. I was beyond mere anger. This was an emotion I did not have a name for.

And I would _make_ them afraid.

Already a plan was forming in my head. If I got out into the open, let a couple of sightings occur, they'd have to respond.

They would come to take me.

But they would only meet their doom.

"Can you take the Aurors off the orphanage."

"Sure. Are you going to check it out?"

"Makes sense to."

"I can give you an hour-long window tomorrow morning. Nothing more."

"That's all I'll need," I said grimly.

* * *

><p>"An emergency session of the Wizengamot is now called to order!"<p>

About two-thirds of the Wizengamot were in attendance. Many looked ruffled, having been roused from their beds. I took my usual spot high in the gallery overlooking the Chamber.

"What is the meaning of this?" shouted one.

"Are the rumours true?" asked another.

Kingsley stood, and cleared his throat.

"Members of the Wizengamot, tonight I bring news of the gravest nature. Three hours ago, we suffered an attack so vile I would not have believed it possible. But nevertheless, it is. An orphanage dedicated to children who lost their parents in the war was ruthlessly targeted. The children and their carers are no longer with us."

Kingsley paused. Cries of shock rang around the Chamber.

"In the last three hours, the Auror Office has been working furiously, trying to find the perpetrators of this evil. Their work will continue. But what happens, I ask, when the law catches up with these killers? Will we blunt the force of justice? No. We will never cower to evil again!"

"When I was appointed Minister for Magic, one of my first enactments was prohibiting the use of the Unforgivable Curses by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I now move to overturn that order. For too long we have fooled ourselves that mercy and compassion will guarantee peace. Make no mistake, Councillors. We are at war, and I will not deny our soldiers the weapons they need to fight the enemy on their own terms!"

"Does anyone dare object?"

Not one hand was raised in the Chamber. Even the most ardent critics of Kingsley were silent - at least for the moment.

"So be it. I hereby publicly deliver a kill order to the Auror Office. Let this be a warning to anyone who is an enemy of freedom and peace! No more will such evil deeds be done in the name of a dead man."

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

I noticed a change in the air as soon as I walked into the Great Hall.

We believed once that Hogwarts was once untouchable.

We had been wrong.

With Voldemort gone, the aura of invincibility had begun to shroud the proud battalions once again.

But now, once again, students were scared.

And there was only one question on everybody's minds:

Is Hogwarts really safe?

Taking my usual spot at the Gryffindor table, I picked up a nearby _Prophet, _unfurled it,and began to read.

_DEATH EATERS KILL THIRTY WAR ORPHANS IN SHOCKING ATTACK_

_Late last night, a horrific attack on a Wizarding Orphanage for young survivors of the war left thirty children dead, as well as two matrons and a caretaker._

A picture of the remains of the orphanage covered most of the front page, a blackened, scorched ruin. All the children...innocents...gone.

I felt sick. That it looked just like Hogwarts by the end of the Final Battle made it all too real to me.

Further down the page, another headline read:

_KILL ORDER GIVEN TO AURORS_

_The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, last night made a U-turn on his reformist policy of banning MLE use of the Unforgivables. In a statement to press, the Minister, visibly angered, claimed that such an attack required 'regrettable and unfortunate' measures to be taken. The change in policy has garnered a fair amount of criticism for Shacklebolt, with opponents saying the move was 'too late' - and several supporters voicing their disappointment in him for allowing the return of what is considered to be an 'extreme' course of action. The hard-line approach has been widely received with public approval, however... (continued on Page 2)_

I flipped over the page to continue, but McGonagall interrupted.

"Children, if I may have your attention please?"

The eyes of the school collectively went to the Staff Table.

"Due to the tragic news, classes have been cancelled. Today has been made a day of mourning. Please join me in a moment of silence."

The words 'classes have been cancelled' would usually be something to rouse a massive cheer amongst the student population, but not even one person smiled.

Not today.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

On a glorious spring morning, I made my way through the magical wards protecting the ruins of the orphanage.

Aurors had already been here, but had since left.

I stepped inside a hole where a door used to be, and made my way through charred piles of rubble.

Rounding a corner, I saw the remnants of a door blown off its hinges. I walked into what looked like to be a bedroom.

The sight will haunt me forever.

Bloodstains splattered the walls, mixed with dirty scorch marks and blackened soot - a macabre contrast to the strips of bright blue wallpaper that had been there originally.

The stench was close to unbearable, stagnant pools of liquid combined with blood, rotting flesh and vomit.

But worse still were the bodies. The remains of one mutilated corpse were spread across the room, whilst another child was unharmed apart from a pinpoint hole running through her head and the thin trickle of blood that had made it's way down between her eyes.

I continued, willing myself onwards.

I walked into the next room, a study, to find an elderly matron with her throat slit and her clothing reddened by the river of blood that had wept from her neck.

I found an assortment of fingers and toes scattered on the ground in a crude diagram.

_Dark magic rituals._

I looked up again at the ceiling to find a head leering at me in a hideous grin. There was no body attached to it.

A girl spread out on a bed, her hands tied and her legs bent at heinous angles, obviously broken in several places.

I did not want to think about her fate, or the pool of blood that had seeped out onto the bedsheets.

I continued my search, and I could see what had conspired here in my mind's eye.

The things that Dark Magic could do.

I moved into the kitchen, and immediately wished I hadn't.

The _luckiest_ child there had received a simple _Avada Kedavra._

And on the wall, a Dark Mark was drawn in blood.

An abomination the likes of nothing I had ever seen had happened here.

I came across horrors in that ruin that I cannot adequately begin to describe. This place of hope, of new beginning, had turned into a monument to the greatest evil humanity could do.

And in the midst of it all, I screamed at the world. It had not given these children a chance to experience, to share in its beauty. No, these children had been doomed to hell on earth.

I did not know how such atrocities could be committed by any human, whether they were Wizard or Muggle.

But I did know I was going to end each and every single person responsible.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

I helped Hermione pack her trunk.

"I'm heading back to London - I'm needed there right now."

I nodded in understanding.

"I'm worried about Harry, Ginny. When he hears about this…I wouldn't put it past him to do something stupid."

"Someone should go check on Teddy."

"Merlin, I didn't even think about Teddy. He's with Andromeda, right?"

"Yeah. I think Harry might visit him."

"I might see if someone can keep an eye on Teddy. We may discover Harry. After all, you know him better than anyone."

I gave her a wry smile.

"I thought I did. Now, I don't know."

Hermione engulfed me in a hug.

"Stay safe," I whispered.

"I will."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I returned to the Department of Mysteries, and began preparing.

"What are you doing?" asked X.

"I'm going to spring a few traps."

"We're with you, Harry," said Y.

I nodded. There would be no dissuading X and Y.

I looked over the map as I waited for the others to get ready.

My eyes narrowed in on a red pin.

Whoever was waiting at that pin wasn't in for a good day.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

After Hermione left, I took my broom out to the Quidditch pitch. I didn't feel much like flying but I needed something that would take my mind off the horrors of the world.

I swooped around the Pitch, completing lazy laps.

Peace.

It seemed like an ever-elusive dream now. How naive had we all been, to think that the victory at Hogwarts would make the wizarding world's problems disappear!

I descended. Not even flying was succeeding in cheering me up.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

In the last few days, we'd gotten at best seven or eight hours of sleep between us. A cauldron of what Y had dubbed '_superjuice_' - a potion that gave us renewed strength and energy had become a permanent fixture in the corner of the office.

I dipped a goblet in the cauldron and took a long drink.

We'd just returned from a raid that had resulted in no new information. Despite our best efforts, we weren't any closer to finding the Death Eaters responsible.

Sitting down, I began making notes on the latest information we had, the odd noise from X or Y accompanying the rustling of the parchment.

Hours went by, with little progress.

In frustration, I slammed my quill on the table. I needed to get out of here for a while.

* * *

><p><em>Crack.<em>

I appeared from nowhere in the middle of the street. Down the road was Andromeda's house. I needed to see my godson.

I walked briskly down the street. The wards that protected the house, whilst adequate, could do with improvement. I paused, and cast an orange hue into the sky. It darkened, shimmered, and vanished.

I levitated myself into the house by way of an upstairs window. In it was a lantern giving off a dim glow, surrounded by pictures of Remus and Tonks. A cradle was positioned alongside a wall. I walked over.

"Hey, Teddy," I whispered.

My godson looked up at me from his cradle, and raised chubby fingers towards me. I had expected him to cry, but he looked serene.

Another figure burst into the room, wand pointed at me.

"Get away from him!"

"Hi, Andromeda," I said, my voice heavy. I moved into the light and held my hands up in a gesture to show I meant no harm.

"Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed, lowering her wand, and wrapping her arms around me. "I'd been so worried!"

Perhaps better than anyone, Andromeda could understand me. She'd lost a family too.

"I'm sorry…"

"Where have you been? What have you been doing? You look so much older!"

"I can't tell you. At least…not yet. You must forgive me."

She nodded, but she was unhappy about it.

"He's going to start walking soon, I know it. He's already changing his hair colour."

I grinned.

"Just like his mum."

Andromeda gave me a sad smile.

"You gave me a promise, Harry. You said you'd be there for him."

"And I'll keep it. You know I will. But I can't be there for him right now."

"When, Harry?"

"Soon. What I'm doing won't take forever."

"I hope so."

I checked my watch.

"I have to go."

"Okay," she replied, with a certain resignation.

"I've strengthened the wards on the house. Getting in here was too easy."

"Thank you."

I stole a last glance at Teddy, and then with a _crack, _I disappeared.

* * *

><p>It had been a week. This was the fifth hideout we'd raided. The last four hadn't given us much information. We'd barely slept. It didn't deter us.<p>

"_Crucio!"_

On top of a small table, the man screamed beneath Y's wand. His fellow captives sat on the floor, bound with thick chains.

"Where are they?" Y asked.

"I…I don't know…please, have mercy…"

"He knows nothing," said X from the corner of the room. He was sitting in a chair, eyes intently focused. X was an accomplished Legilimens. No thoughts were entirely safe.

Y nodded, and turned back to our captive.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

With his wand, Y levitated another one of our captives, and slammed him onto the small table previously occupied by the man who had just died.

"This one has a stronger mind," said X. "Break it."

I moved out of the shadows and put my wand to the man's throat, ignoring the gasps of recognition that came from the last captives.

"_Crucio!"_

The man writhed against his bounds.

"You are going to die tonight. However long that takes is up to you. Where are they?!" I shouted, intensifying the curse.

"Harry, he has information," X said.

Y forced the man's mouth open and trickled a few drops of Veritaserum down his throat.

"Were you at the orphanage?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what you did there."

The man described his actions at the orphanage. When he finished, even X appeared sickened.

"How many?"

"About fifteen of us."

"And the rest?"

"Most are part of a larger group."

We continued questioning the man, finding out the locations of safe houses, others involved, people giving assistance to their cause…everything.

"Any other questions?" asked X.

Y and I shook our heads.

I put my wand to the man's stomach.

"This one is mine."

The Unspeakables both nodded.

I exhaled slowly, and cast Fiendfyre inside the man's stomach. His agony was instantaneous. With beads of sweat forming on my face, I controlled the livid flame as it surged through the man's flesh. The acrid stench was overpowering. I looked up to see horror on the faces of our remaining three captives. My victim's screams came to an abrupt halt as the pain consumed him, his limbs crumbling to ashes.

After the flight in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, I had made it something of a personal mission to learn how to control Fiendfyre. I had been a prodigious student.

Finally, I withdrew my wand, quenching the Fiendfyre.

Justice had been done.

* * *

><p><em>Hermione<em>

After a long day, I decided to visit Andromeda and Teddy. It had been a week since the attacks, and trusting Ginny's intuition, I had meant to go sooner, but the Ministry had been in such uproar that I hadn't been able to find the time.

I knocked on the door to Andromeda's home.

"Hermione! Come in!" she greeted me.

"Thank you."

"Can I get you some tea?"

"Yes please."

I made my way into the lounge to see Teddy crawling about on the floor.

He looked up at me, and his tuft of hair went from a Weasley red to a brown to match mine.

"He's been doing that with every visitor. Molly came over yesterday," said Andromeda, bringing a cup of tea into the lounge.

"What brings you here?" she asked as we sat and I took the tea.

"Harry has been here, hasn't he?"

Andromeda paused and sighed.

"Yes, although I don't think he'd appreciate my saying."

"You talked to him?"

"Briefly. He didn't tell me anything, just that what he was doing wouldn't last forever, and that he'd return to us."

"How is he?"

"He looks…tired. Older. He's aged, Hermione. He's eating well enough though. He doesn't look as thin as he did after the Battle."

"What is he doing?"

"He wouldn't say. But he looks like a man still at war."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"Afraid of? Tell me?"

"An Auror - who is now dead - had a theory that Harry was part of a wetworks operation. That means -"

"I know what wetworks means, Hermione," Andromeda reminded me gently.

I nodded. "She - the Auror - thought that Harry was hunting down Death Eaters."

A thoughtful expression passed across her face. "It's what James or Sirius would have done."

"Yeah?"

"James killed in the first war. Both to protect and punish. He wasn't proud of a lot of it, but he understood the necessity."

"Really?"

"Yes, Sirius too. People knew their reputations. They were powerful wizards. And unquestionably brave," she said.

"They say that on the night Lily and James died, James tried to hold Voldemort off without a wand," I asked.

"Yes. He loved his family utterly," Andromeda replied simply. "And I think that love lives in Harry still."

"So do you agree? That he's part of a black ops mission?"

"Perhaps," she sighed.

"You're not certain then?"

"I am certain of only one thing, Hermione. In war, no hands are clean."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

During another evening in the Department of Mysteries pouring over parchment, I found the information I was looking for.

A lead on their location.

I cross-referenced it with a statement we'd taken from a captured Death Eater, and I knew I was right.

Quickly studying the map, I conjured a red pin, and placed it into the wall with a feeling of great satisfaction.

It was time.

I donned my dark dragonhide jacket, tightened the strap that held a long black knife across my chest, and secured my wand in its holster, before lifting the hood of my cloak over my head.

Making sure X and Y hadn't spotted me, I disapparated from the Ministry with a _crack._

I reappeared on a country road. For miles around, it was practically deserted.

Save one house.

I pulled my Invisibility Cloak on, and made my way down the dusty road. About a mile ahead lay the hideout occupied by the cadre of Death Eaters.

They thought they were safe.

Little did they know that they would not live to see another dawn.

* * *

><p>AN: Hope you liked it! Get ready for even more action next chapter!

Please review! To those who have, or intend to, thank you, thank you, thank you! I really can't express my appreciation enough.


	10. Genesis Part II: Born

A/N: About to go into exams, but rather than go a while without a chapter I've decided to upload the next one now instead.

As always, thank you to those who review. Constructive opinions are invaluable to me.

* * *

><p><strong>X. Genesis Part Two: Born<strong>

"Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad."

_Harry_

_Avada Kedavra._

The first Death Eater died without a sound, his fall muffled by a hastily cast Silencing Charm.

I quickly rounded the corner to see two more approaching.

Pity they couldn't see me.

The first was caught in a _Stupefy_, and the surprise of the sudden attack had rendered his companion frozen for a few seconds.

Seconds were all I needed.

He died in another green flash of light.

I quickly levitated the bodies into an empty room, and tested each wand. The first one suited me best. I snapped the other two, and moved further into the house.

_Three down._

The anger was gone now. All the hate, the rage that I had felt at the orphanage, it had all disappeared, replaced with an unnerving, icy calm.

I was at peace.

And that frightened me.

Emboldened by my early victories, I went through four more rooms in quick succession, three of which were occupied.

_Avada Kedavra._

_Avada Kedavra._

_Avada Kedavra._

I made my way upstairs, blowing a pinpoint hole through the head of a Death Eater on the landing.

He collapsed, a trickle of blood running down his forehead.

I Vanished the body, and moved into the first bedroom.

A prone figure lay sleeping.

With a flick of my wand and a green flash, I ensured he would never wake again.

The next two rooms were empty, but the fourth one I found another person.

Except this one was chained to the bed.

In the dim light, I could see that her body was covered in lucid purple bruises, and one of her arms was bent at an unnatural angle.

I could not sense any magical power coming from her - she was a Muggle. Breaking into her mind was easy.

I flitted through her recent memories. None were pleasant.

This woman had suffered a kind of torture that had ruined her mind.

Death would be a kindness for her.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

I placed my wand on her temple.

_Avada Kedavra_

Grimly, I moved on.

* * *

><p>Uric Dolohov had been a Death Eater for four years, being recruited shortly after the Dark Lord's rising at the end of the Triwizard Tournament.<p>

His uncle Antonin had been killed by Flitwick, and if it was the last thing he'd ever do, Uric vowed to get his hands on the tiny Charms Professor.

Tonight, he was in the kitchen, cooking a makeshift meal with two other Death Eaters. Normally Uric wouldn't set foot near a kitchen, but he was forced to make an exception due to the noticeable lack of House Elves in their hideout.

"Bloody elves, never there when you need them. Vermin, the lot of them," he spat.

"Don't spit in the kitchen, Dolohov. It's disgusting," chided a female Death Eater.

"Fuck off, Morin. Since when did you care?"

"I don't want your spit on my food!"

"It's still going to taste like shit," he retorted, walking out of the kitchen. They could cook their own food.

He shoved open the door to his room, a few feet from the kitchen, and laid out on the bed. He sighed.

People were so complacent sometimes. Not like that girl at the orphanage. She'd been difficult: screamed when he'd broken her legs, but after he'd sawn out her tongue with an old knife, she hadn't made a sound…

And the look of sheer terror on her face when she finally understood what was happening to her was nothing short of beautiful.

He was broken out of his reverie when he heard a muffled thump from down the hall. Muttering darkly, he made his way back to the kitchen.

"Morin?"

Morin lay sprawled out face down on the floor, along with her companion.

Uric quickly turned her over, then froze.

Morin was dead.

Very dead.

"Fuck!"

A small noise made him look up sharply.

"Who's there?"

The reply came in the form of a Silencing Charm and a Full Body-Bind.

He toppled to the floor, his nose breaking in the impact. Groaning in silent pain, he felt his body being turned over.

For the first time in a long time, Uric Dolohov felt very afraid.

The emerald eyes that stared back at his were filled with an emotion that he did not understand.

His head jolted, and memories began to flit through his brain - the layout and occupants of the Death Eater house, his own identity, his uncle Antonin, and his own actions - his part in the threats, the attack on the orphanage, the girl…

As sudden as they had begun, the flood of memories stopped.

And in that moment, Uric Dolohov knew he was going to die.

With a wand flick, the throbbing of his broken nose was replaced by a new agony.

Uric realised with horror that his crotch was on fire.

Every nerve in his body screamed with the urge to move, but he could not. The pain was unbearable, and already, it was too late. The fire had spread to his legs and chest, and Uric knew that this was no mere flame, no, this fire was fuelled by an insatiable, livid rage that hungered for his very soul.

The heat had reached his neck, and he couldn't feel a thing below his waistline. The fire was burning inside his body, devouring not just skin, but organs, tissue, and bone.

Uric Dolohov's dying thought was another memory, a remark he'd made only a few short weeks ago.

_Harry_ _Potter won't attack us. He is too afraid to kill._

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I'd made a mistake.

A quick Killing Curse would've sufficed.

I let my emotions get the better of me.

I checked my watch. Killing the Death Eater in the kitchen had taken too long.

I stashed another wand into my belt, dragged the bodies out of sight, and moved onwards.

I entered an empty room with crude diagrams scrawled across the walls and ceiling. They were the same as the ones at the orphanage.

More of the arcane. It wasn't a priority, so I left.

I wasn't here to study Dark Magic.

I was here to end it.

The next two rooms were also empty, yet the information I'd gotten from using Legilimency on Dolohov said there were many more Death Eaters inside the house.

A quick detection spell revealed four more in this part of the house, and all in the same room.

Quickly walking towards it, I weighed up my options. No matter how I saw it, subtlety would no longer help me.

It was time to make some noise.

I stashed my cloak away, and drew one of the wands I'd taken from my foes.

Carefully, using my wand, I fished out a small pouch filled with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

All that stood between me and using it was a sturdy oak door. I aimed my own wand at the door, and levitated the Darkness Powder with the other stolen wand.

_Confringo!_

No more door.

The Blasting Curse exploded the door inwards, and swinging the other wand around, I flung the powder into the room.

Darkness was, as expected, immediate.

Muffled cries of shock came from within, and I strode into the blackness firing a barrage of green light from both wands.

When the Powder cleared, three wizards lay dead upon the floor.

But there was a fourth missing.

I swore as I noticed another door in the room. It was open. Number four had escaped.

And he'd gone to warn his friends.

Well, at least it'd make this evening interesting.

Foregoing all attempts at discretion, I strode out of the room.

They could not Apparate.

They could not Floo.

And they could not hide.

There would be no escape.

* * *

><p>I rounded another corner and came face to face with a Death Eater. Not slowing down, I disarmed him with a flick of one wand, and took his life with the other.<p>

Breaking into a run, I headed for the other side of the house. Another detection spell told me there were eighteen more Death Eaters in the house.

Most would call those odds suicide.

I just kept running.

A green jet of light shot past my ear, and I dived to ground, twisting my body and aiming both wands in the direction of the curse.

Nothing.

This one was considerably more skilled than the others.

I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye, and rolled left.

The action saved my life as a second green jet flew past.

It was kill or be killed.

_Incendio Maxima!_

With both wands I conjured a torrent of livid blue fire that roared down the corridor, engulfing everything in it's path.

I got to my feet as my opponent's screams faded away.

Up ahead I could hear muffled shouts.

"Stick together! He can't take on all of us!"

Well, that's exactly what I planned to do.

I came to another larger door. It was warded.

I began to murmur the incantation to break the ward, and after a few short moments, the ward dissipated in an orange haze.

This was it.

* * *

><p><em>Enter Harry Potter.<em>

I blasted my way into the room, firing off spells before the last splinters had fallen to the floor.

_Expelliarmus. Defodio. Confringo. Protego. Expulso. Avada Kedavra._

I duelled with a deadly rhythm, simultaneously shielding and cursing, ducking and weaving through the room.

With a vicious slashing motion of my wand, one Death Eater collapsed to his knees mid-spell, his throat slit open, spurting blood.

I turned, and gouged a fist-sized chunk of flesh from a second Death Eater.

A third cast black lightning at me, and in one swift motion, I redirected it at another, her screams jarring against the sounds of battle as the lightning tore her apart.

A slashing hex caught my shoulder, and I gritted my teeth in pain. Whirling around again, I faced my attacker:

_Reducto Mortata!_

I replied with a curse that exploded his head from his body. A fountain of blood gushed from his neck.

Suddenly I felt myself lifted off my feet in the blast of an explosion. Fire billowed throughout the room, and I fell to the floor dazed.

Sharp pain blossomed in me as I got to my feet. One broken ankle. Smoke and haze filled the room as I tried to get my bearings.

Two shots of bright light shot from the darkness and slammed me into the wall. Each felt like I'd taken a shotgun to the chest at point-blank range.

That was a rib gone. Not broken, gone. Looked like I was due for another date with Skele-Grow.

Each gasp I took for air sent stabbing pain through my lungs. Figures in black began to materialise before me, even though my vision was blurred.

I couldn't do it. This was it. I was going to die.

Any second now, they'd appear, and raise their wands…

For an instant, time stood still for me.

And in that instant, I remembered why I was here. I remembered the horrors I'd witnessed at the orphanage.

And I remembered my vow to kill each and every single person responsible.

Finding strength through pure desperation, I half-stood, slumped against the wall, and raised my arms.

By some miracle I still had two wands.

_Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!_

Like how machine guns would rain bullets in the films Dudley watched, I shot a continuous stream of green light into the space before me.

The hate, the pain, the cold deathly rage that charged through my body fuelled me to go further. I fired Killing Curse after Killing Curse at them, wishing them to die.

They started this war.

Tom Riddle had started it on that fateful Halloween night.

It is a war I've fought all my life.

And only then, when I poured brilliant green death into a human wall, did I feel something like peace.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

The night was cold.

Clad in an oversized jersey, I stepped onto the balcony, and gazed at the soft snowflakes tumbling down in the breeze. I took another step and leaned on the railing in silent contemplation.

Inside, Gryffindors were getting back from dinner, settling down into armchairs and couches to read and write, to play, to gossip, to smile…

My mind wandered to Harry.

What was he doing tonight? What was he thinking? Where was he? Was he happy? Hurt? And for the countless time, I wondered why he'd left me.

The night sky didn't answer.

Typical.

I hugged my arms around my waist.

The night was cold.

A solitary tear ran down my cheek.

Did he still love me? Could he still feel love?

Was he still the Harry Potter I wanted back in my arms?

I didn't know, and that hurt as much as knowing that he was gone.

The night was cold.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

The haze had cleared, and dead bodies were littered about on the floor. I slowly made my way out, past the puddle of blood, and the corpses, and all the death that I had caused. On all sides I was surrounded by a bleak, burning ruin.

I didn't know what keeping me standing. I had a dozen cuts and bruises, was bleeding in no less than four...make that five places, and my head was raging with the pain of concussion.

The enormity of what I'd done struck as the exhaustion finally claimed its toll on me, and I passed out amongst the rubble, in what had been an hour ago, home to thirty-four Death Eaters.

"Kingsley?"

The Minister for Magic looked up from his report to see two Aurors standing in front of him.

"Falkner, O'Reilly. What are you after?"

"There's been a couple of reports sir - a lot of magical activity in a small space," said the first.

"Where?"

"An old muggle manor house in the West Country," the other replied.

"Definitely magical?"

"Unless Muggles have figured out how to use the Killing Curse-"

"What?" Kingsley interjected.

"Reported were numerous green flashes…the house is on a big hill, and there's a small village at the bottom. A few wizards live in the village, and you can see the manor from there."

"How long ago?"

"An hour."

"Right, put a team together. You'll head out in twenty minutes."

They left.

Quickly conjuring a Patronus, Kingsley sent a message down to the Department of Mysteries.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I regained consciousness, groaning as the pain of the battle hit me again. My entire body shook in agony. It was an effort to curl my fingers around my wand and conjure a crutch for my broken ankle.

Standing up nearly killed me, but I willed myself onwards.

I knew that the Aurors would arrive soon, and when they did, I couldn't be here.

One tentative step at a time, I limped out of the ruined building.

"Look, he left a pin," said Y, pointing to the map on the wall. "It's new. He's got to be there."

Roused awake by Kingsley's Patronus, the two Unspeakables had quickly dressed and met in the makeshift command room that made up Operation headquarters.

"_Merlin_. If the intelligence is right, there are at least twenty Death Eaters there."

"We've got to get there, now. If the battle is over and the Aurors find him first…"

X nodded, and grabbed an empty coffee mug.

"_Portus."_

With a lurch, both disappeared.

* * *

><p>Several Aurors arrived at the manor, and were combing the scene.<p>

"Merlin and Agrippa…" Falkner exclaimed.

"I reckon this lot were mown down by the Killing Curse - look at the way they've fallen."

"O'Reilly, have you seen this? Three dead in the kitchen...at least I think it's three, there are two bodies and a mound of ashes."

"And in the drawing room, another three," added a third.

"Send Kingsley a Patronus. Tell him what happened, and for the love of Merlin, make sure the press is kept on a tight leash!" O'Reilly ordered.

"Too right, the _Prophet_ would have a bloody field day if they saw this," said another.

"I think we have a bigger problem. Who the hell could've done this?" O'Reilly replied.

"I don't know...it's strange - the lot on the other side of the house are all neat kills. Avada Kedavra, no fuss about it. But on this side, it looks like a bloody battleground!"

"I think it was Potter. Amy was right," said O'Reilly.

"You've got to fucking me. No way could he do something like this, he's just a kid!"

"A kid who killed You-Know-Who."

"Yeah, but whoever did this must've been fucking berserk!" Falkner swore.

"Potter had motive - we all saw the orphanage, he probably managed to get a look in too."

"Sure, but why would Potter go...oh shit…" his voice trailed away.

"Did you forget that Potter's a war orphan too?" O'Reilly said, his voice somber.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

I watched the moon sink behind the clouds, casting the sky into total darkness.

The steady chatter of the Gryffindor Common Room had long subsided to a whisper as I went back inside and took my customary seat by the fire.

I sat in silence. Something had happened tonight, deep down I could feel it.

Something wonderful, and terrible, and _great._

But what it was, I did not know.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I headed down a small path that had fallen into disuse to get to the main road. I still didn't have the strength to Apparate.

Turning a corner, I came across a figure blocking my way.

"Not another step!"

It was Delaney, the Auror who had waylaid me at Godric's Hollow. Looked like he'd finally caught up.

"Fuck…it really is you!" He seemed to be surprised as I was.

I took a step.

"Don't you move! Don't!"

I took another step.

"What the hell did you do in there, Potter?" he gestured towards the ruined building.

"You won't curse me. I'm a war hero, remember?" The words were bitter on my tongue.

I took two more steps.

"Are you out of your mind? I...I will stun you, Potter! I am too far gone to care - you don't believe me? Believe I won't? Come on!"

His wand was an inch from my forehead.

I looked up at him.

"Do you really want to be me?" I asked, my voice dangerous.

He faltered, and lowered his wand.

I gazed into his face. It was not the face of a killer.

It was not a face like my own.

"I killed them. All of them. Now go home."

He paused.

"What? Who...who are you to decide? Why do you do this?!"

"Because I must. Go. Forget that you were ever apart of this."

"What if I go to the Daily Prophet, tell them that you were behind this?"

"I have some powerful friends. They wouldn't take too kindly to it," I said impassively.

Delaney stood there, silently, staring at me for only a moment.

Then he turned and walked away, back in the direction of the ruined manor house.

The moonlight had given away to a chill black.

Despite being close to exhaustion, I knew I had to get further away.

I walked on, into the shadows, not looking back.

Never looking back.

I walked on, through the long, cold, dark night that had become my life.

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


	11. Genesis Part III: Supreme Power

A/N: New chapter! Sorry it's a bit later than I've been aiming for - I'll try and get at least a couple more chapters out by Christmas.

* * *

><p><strong>XI. Genesis Part Three: Supreme Power<strong>

"Now I have become Death, the destroyer of worlds."

* * *

><p><em>Crack.<em>

Two cloaked men appeared by the roadside, and made their way to a prone figure sprawled facedown nearby.

"He's unconscious."

"Injuries?"

"Sustained considerable burns, cuts. Damage to bones, muscle tissue. His pulse is very weak."

"Tell them we've found him. We'll Side-Along."

One of the men lifted the figure from the dusty ground.

_Crack._

And then all were gone, leaving a sheen of dust floating in midair behind them.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

"_Celebrations are being seen and heard all over Wizarding Britain tonight. The Ministry has just held a special conference, at which the Minister for Magic just informed the Wizengamot and press that justice has been done to the group of resurgent Death Eaters who terrorised the nation only weeks ago, and in their most horrific act, killed over thirty people at an orphanage. The Minister was less forthcoming about the manner in which the Death Eaters were hunted down and summarily executed without trial, but there were few critics tonight, with near-universal public support of the Ministry's apparently hardline actions on ensuring a brighter, safer future…"_

Nearly all of Gryffindor House were crowded around the wireless, from bright-eyed first years who on any other night would be sound asleep by now, to relieved and smiling seventh years like myself, many of us clutching drinks in celebration.

"_...and now, recorded from the Wizengamot Chambers, Minister Shacklebolt: ...assembled Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot, tonight, we have achieved justice! Let this serve as a warning to anyone who believes that we are a weakened people! We will not willing descend into another era of chaos! Together, we can both rebuild, and ensure safety that extends to all!"_

Cries of support could be heard from the Wizengamot Chamber, as the commentary returned:

"_That was, of course, Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, speaking not ten minutes ago to a full gathering of the Wizengamot. A live interview will follow in the morning. Now, we have several guests with us here tonight to discuss the turn of events. Firstly, what do you think about the particular brand of justice the Ministry seems to be applying here? Is it right? Is it what we fought for? Is…"_

The WWN was drowned out by our noisy cheers. Tomorrow we would celebrate new hope, but tonight, tonight we were celebrating simply being alive.

* * *

><p>Kingsley strode from the Wizengamot Chamber, the applause from the room still ringing in his ears.<p>

Arthur walked alongside him.

"Don't get used to it."

Kingsley smirked.

"I'm not. They'll have something new to complain about in the morning."

Arthur gave a small grin in reply.

"What do we know about Harry?"

"X and Y have him. They sent word just before I addressed the Chamber," said Kingsley as he quickened his pace.

"Thank Merlin," Arthur replied in relief as they rounded a corner.

"Don't thank him yet. He's seriously injured."

"Any lasting damage?"

Kingsley paused and looked at his Deputy.

"Only time will tell."

* * *

><p>The Aurors Falkner and O'Reilly both took seats on the comfortable leather chairs before Kingsley's desk.<p>

"What did you find?" the Minister asked.

"The manor house sustained significant fire damage. It was magical in nature," Falkner replied.

"But we were able to find several casualties in the wreckage."

"Burned to death?"

"All killed by magic. Extensive use of the Killing Curse, but other spells were also used. Some fairly rare and powerful curses too. We'll know more with more time," said O'Reilly.

Kingsley interlocked his fingers on the desk.

"Any survivors?"

"Not one."

"I want to know what happened here and I want to know who was responsible. Do you understand?"

The two Aurors exchanged a look.

"Sir…we think it was Harry Potter," O'Reilly said.

"Do you have any proof?"

"A hunch sir. He has motive. We know that nearly all of the casualties were Death Eaters ID'd at the Orphanage."

"I need more than a hunch," Kingsley replied. "I need cold, hard, evidence."

He let out an exasperated sigh.

"Gentlemen, you both understand that the future of our world hangs in the balance. The Ministry needs to project calm and stability, not uncertainty. The Aurors were responsible for bringing these criminals to justice. Not one would be taken alive. For the safety of MLE personnel, all had to be eliminated on sight."

Both Aurors nodded.

"That will be all."

"Yes sir," they replied in unison.

* * *

><p>Accompanied by an Unspeakable, Kingsley strode down a long hall within the Department of Mysteries. Soon, he arrived at his destination - X's office.<p>

The Unspeakable knocked on the door.

"Sir, the Minister of Magic is here."

"Enter," came the reply.

Kingsley did, and took a seat.

"How is Harry?" he asked.

"Holding up, as I understand," X replied.

"He's still unconscious?"

"Yes. Department Healers are giving him restorative potions."

"How many Healers are assigned to him?"

"Four."

"Can they be trusted?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"They took an Unbreakable Vow."

"And the Operation?"

"All they know is that Harry Potter is resting in that bed. They don't know why or how," X assured.

"But like everyone in Mysteries, they're Unspeakables. They'll figure it out, surely?" Kingsley asked.

"Hence the Vow."

There was a heavy pause in the air.

"Minister, the Healers gave me a report earlier that you should know about," said X.

"The Department of Mysteries, actually telling me something?"

"This _is_ a security manner."

"Go on."

"Whilst examining Harry, they noticed some peculiar readings."

"Readings of what?"

"His magical energy."

"You can measure that?"

"Sort of. It's nothing St Mungo's would do, but our Healers are a bit more ah, _experimental_."

"Okay," said Kingsley, leaning back in his chair. "So what was different about these readings?"

"They're off the chart. Any scale we've used in prior testing simply doesn't respond."

There was a knock on the door.

"Healer Wilson, sir."

"Come in."

A wizard in the robes of a Healer walked in, and gave Kingsley a polite nod before turning to X.

"Sir, Harry Potter is in a stable condition. With the accelerants we're using, he should be back to health within a week."

"Thank you. Wilson, I was just telling the Minister about the information you gave me earlier. Would you mind telling him what you told me?"

"Of course, sir," said the Healer, taking a seat. "Minister, we've been experimenting with measuring the, ah, power, if you like, of a wizard. It's not an exact term, because it doesn't take into account a wizard's spell knowledge or their duelling ability. Nor is it entirely accurate."

"It's not an exact science. I understand."

"We've measured subjects for the last six months, and out of curiousity, we decided to test Mr Potter. And nothing conventional works. There's only one arithmetical expression that can calculate his power."

"What is it?" asked Kingsley.

"_Megadeaths_."

A frown crossed Kingsley's face. "Go on."

"Hypothetically, if Mr Potter - his power fully realised and assuming he didn't tire - was to attack Muggle London, he could conceivably eliminate a minimum of a thousand people an hour. That figure drastically increases when you take into account damage to infrastructure - skyscrapers, housing estates, schools - in a densely populated area," continued the Healer.

"The devastation would be on a scale scarcely imaginable."

"Unopposed by magic, Mr Potter would be able to level London in under two weeks, claiming the lives of millions."

"_Merlin."_

"Minister, only Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle would have similar readings. Voldemort's, we're guessing at, obviously. But we do have some records of Dumbledore's power."

"You said you've only been testing for six months."

"Yes, but we begun preliminary testing a while ago."

"And you tested Dumbledore?"

"Minister, who do you think gave us the idea?"

"Dumbledore set this up?"

"I know it's not something we'd expect from him - it doesn't match his psych profile - but it's true nevertheless. He first approached us after the incident at the Triwizard Tournament. After Voldemort's alleged return. He worked with us under Fudge's nose."

"What was his plan?" asked Kingsley.

"We don't know. We were just another chess piece in Dumbledore's game. He did not divulge his purpose, only the means to set up the testing."

"I wonder why…" mused Kingsley.

"Men are not made equal, Minister. The very fact that the three people in this room exist is testament to that fact."

The Minister nodded.

"Okay. Thank you, Wilson. I can, of course, count on your utmost discretion?"

"I am an Unspeakable too, sir."

"Good. That'll be all."

The Healer nodded, and left the room.

"I'm going to tell Arthur. You should tell Y. He has the right to know," said Kingsley.

"I will."

Both fell into a somber silence, then:

"Minister, do you think Harry poses a threat?"

There was a pause, then:

"…yes."

X gave a small nod.

"Do you?"

"Of course. Caution is the only prudent response."

"Merlin. Here we are, two of the most powerful men in the Wizarding World, and we're afraid of someone not yet out of his teens," remarked Kingsley.

"We should be afraid," X replied.

"For all the power we possess, his eclipses ours at a magnitude we can scarcely understand."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I opened my eyes. Stabbing pain shot through me.

I grimaced, struggling to focus my sight.

My glasses were placed on my face. X swam into view.

"You're lucky to be alive, Potter," he said, gruffly.

"You know, I think I might've heard that one before," I quipped.

X didn't look amused. Although, to this day, I don't believe he even possessed a sense of humour. I looked around at familiar surroundings. I was also bandaged head to toe in a hospital bed that had been wheeled into my regular room deep within Mysteries.

"I just don't understand, Harry. I went there with the Aurors, and, hell - even I was shocked. How, in Merlin's good name, did you manage to survive?"

"I don't know...I guess, I...just got lucky."

"Lucky? The only logical explanation for what you did is that you swallowed an entire cauldron of _Felix Felicis!"_

"I couldn't see them, they couldn't see me...I thought the best way to solve the problem was to aim for everything…"

"I saw. The sheer number of Curses you fired basically ripped half the Manor apart...I've only seen that sort of power from two wizards before. Dumbledore-"

"...and Voldemort," I interjected.

"Yes," he replied, his expression unreadable.

I nodded mutely.

"It stands to reason though...that you'd be like them. The Horcrux, Dumbledore's teachings...and Voldemort did mark you as his equal."

I looked up, surprised.

"Oh, I know, Potter. I have access to the prophecies, and yours I had to hear for myself. Call it professional curiosity. My point is, you have immense magical talent flowing through you. Your parents...they were exceptional people."

"You knew them?" I asked, surprised. He had never mentioned them to me. But then this was the longest conversation I'd ever had with him.

"I was a few years ahead of them at Hogwarts, but by the time I was earmarked for the Department of Mysteries, their names had made several lists of students to watch. Caused quite the row between Law Enforcement and International Magical Cooperation in their seventh year about who would get first pickings...of course, they were Head Boy and Girl, and getting either of them would've been fantastic for any Department. Of course, by the time it came to graduation, they were Dumbledore's…your mother and father were enlisted into the Order of the Phoenix, and were living on the Potter fortune."

"Add Dumbledore's influence, and your struggle against Voldemort...it's not a surprise you wielded that kind of power last night."

A vision of me screaming Avada Kedavra at a faceless horde came to my mind's eye. I swallowed.

"I don't think I could do it again," I said slowly. "I came close to losing myself back in there."

"I know the feeling."

"What's it like, being an Unspeakable?"

"It's something very few people can do. There's so much you have to let go. For example, forming friendships, families, any relationship at all is strongly discouraged. The few Unspeakables that marry usually lie to their families for years about their jobs. All aided by the Department, of course."

"I was eventually promoted to Department Head after the last one resigned - it'd come to light that he'd been close to Rockwood, who, as you know, was a spy for the Death Eaters. The Ministry didn't like that, so I got the job."

"But what is it you actually do? I mean, when you weren't part of Wrath of Merlin."

"We all study at some point - life, death, time, love…all the forces ultimately beyond magical control. Some of us come from Auror or Hit Wizard training, and those ones occasionally become spies and assassins. What is it the Muggles call it…'spooks' - we're like that."

"Like Y?"

"Yes."

I groaned. My body ached.

"How did I end up here?"

"After the Aurors got wind of what had happened, Kingsley delayed them long enough that Y and I could find you before they did. But Delaney, the Auror, apparently ignored the order. He left straight away. That's why he found you first."

"How do you know about Delaney?"

X took on a guarded expression.

"We intercepted him on his way back. He knew too much, Harry. We had no choice but to Obliviate him. He'll never work as an Auror again."

I nodded, and felt a pang of sympathy for Delaney.

"And then we found you. You'd collapsed half a mile down the road."

I nodded.

"What day is it?"

"Friday. You've been out for three days."

"Does everyone know?"

"Kingsley made an announcement the evening after. He's praising the hard work of the Auror Office and the entire MLE."

"Of course, the Aurors know that they weren't responsible, and more than a few have their suspicions about you, but Kingsley has delivered a blanket ban on them talking to anyone about it."

There was a knock on my doorframe, then Y, along with Arthur and Kingsley, strode into my room.

"He's awake!" exclaimed Y.

Arthur looked at me with a hint of awe in his expression.

"How, Harry? How'd you do it?"

"I don't know…" I replied.

Another emotion briefly flickered across Arthur's face. Could it be…fear?

I dismissed the thought as a wave of exhaustion washed over me. My eyelids drooped.

X noticed and shot a look at Kingsley.

"We'll leave you be. Get some more sleep, Harry. You need it."

They left me to my thoughts, and as I closed my eyes, flashes of the battle returned to me.

* * *

><p>Arthur, Kingsley, X and Y returned to the central room in Operation headquarters.<p>

"He's going to need some time to get to grips with what he's done," said Arthur.

"Don't be so sure. He seemed fairly calm when I spoke to him," X replied.

"I wonder what Dumbledore would have made of all this," said Kingsley.

"He would've hated it. Hated that Harry was part of this," Arthur said.

"Please, Dumbledore's aversion to power did not extend to Harry Potter. He knew what Harry was capable of," X said. "And don't forget that Dumbledore used Harry as a weapon against Voldemort."

"Voldemort was different. He was the darkest wizard of our time!" Arthur argued.

"His followers still want Harry dead. That hasn't changed. Their belief - Voldemort's belief - is real," X replied, his voice raised in annoyance.

"I'm aware of that. But what if we've taken it too far?"

"What do you mean?"

"He means that _we_ made him capable of doing what he did at the Manor," said Y, joining the argument.

"He was already apart of this war," said X.

"You took a blunt object and honed him into a killing machine!" said Arthur.

"We perfected him," argued X.

"Did perfecting him involve teaching him how to use Dark Magic?"

"Only to counter Dark Magic!"

"What if the unthinkable happens? What if he _turns_?" Arthur said.

The question took all of them back. An uneasy silence pervaded the room.

"You're all thinking it! You can't tell me it hasn't crossed your mind!" Arthur accused.

"He won't go dark! He's _Harry fucking Potter_! He killed the darkest wizard of our time!" scoffed X.

"Enough!" said Kingsley, his voice raised.

"He walked into a Death Eater stronghold and systematically destroyed over thirty of them! Fuck!" shouted Arthur, ignoring Kingsley.

The unexpected expletive made them pause.

"Could you live with yourself if … if he went dark?" said Arthur to Y. "Knowing that you taught him?"

"I'm not particularly worried about the state of my soul, Arthur, if that's what you mean," said Y, looking up.

Arthur shot him a look of disgust.

"That's enough!" said Kingsley again, rising to his feet.

"You don't understand. I've know Harry a lot longer than the rest of you. You can't treat this like it's normal behaviour!" Arthur implored.

There was another heavy pause.

X looked down.

"He's right. You're right," he said, looking at Arthur. "It's unprecedented. We cannot pretend that Harry isn't dangerous. This is a victory, but we don't know the end result."

Arthur nodded in acceptance.

"So where do we go from here?"

"We need to have a measure in place to contain Harry, if necessary," X said. "Ministers, you know that we possess…"

"You don't mean…?" Arthur cut in.

"I do," said X, calmly.

"Kingsley, you cannot be seriously considering…" Arthur said, his face pale.

"I'm not. Where Harry is concerned, I will not discuss using it. It was designed for Dark Wizards. Harry is not a Dark Wizard," Kingsley interjected.

"So what do we do?" Y asked.

"There is little we can do. We wait," said Kingsley with an air of finality.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I was up.

I had conjured a set of crutches, and leant heavily on them as I made my way down the hall.

The Healers had done some incredible work. Pain that had once brought me to my knees had receded to a dull ache. My broken ribs had regrown. The slashes across my face and torso had become a criss-cross of thin red scars.

With some difficulty, I draped my Invisibility Cloak across my shoulders.

I made my way up to the streets of London. After days of being confined underground, I needed to see the sky.

* * *

><p>Much later, X walked through the hallways of the Ministry, deep under London. Soon, he came to the Minister's Office and stuck his head through the door.<p>

"He's back, Kingsley. Y trailed him the best he could. He only went into Muggle London for a few hours."

The Minister looked up from his work.

"Good," he nodded.

"Is that all for tonight?" asked the Unspeakable.

"X, I need to amend the Letters. What the Healer said about Harry…"

The Unspeakable, his face a mask, nodded.

"Of course. I'll make the arrangements."

The pair made their way to the headquarters of Wrath of Merlin to find Harry asleep on a couch.

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked at the jet-black haired boy, no, _man, _and like so many times before, wondered whether or not he was doing the right thing.

This wasn't any young man though. Harry was the Chosen One.

Kingsley extinguished the light with his wand.

"Let him rest."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

There's a dream I have.

And in this dream, I don't stop.

I kill them all, the supporters, the sympathisers, the Death Eaters, those who stood idly by…

Every single person even remotely connected to Voldemort.

I shout the words of the Killing Curse until my voice is hoarse and they're all gone.

But I don't stop.

My mother and father lie dead in Godric's Hollow. Dumbledore lies dead at the foot of the Astronomy Tower. The students at Hogwarts lie dead, strewn about the ruined, burning castle. Frank and Alice Longbottom, lie confined in the closed ward, condemned to a fate many consider worse than death.

And I don't stop killing.

It's just a dream, I always tell myself.

It's just a dream.

And then I see them. My mother. My father. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Cedric…

_Harry._

_Harry._

_Harry._

_We're still dead._

* * *

><p>AN: Developed by political scientists, 'megadeath' is used in quantifying the casualties of nuclear war, equal to the deaths of one million people. It is, I think, a very chilling term.

You'll find out what the 'Letters' are next chapter. Kudos to anyone who can guess!


	12. A Wizard in Paris

Simply, it has been too long, and for that I apologise. I know that this is not a typical Harry Potter fanfiction, and that it contains elements I imagine would alienate many readers, so thank you for reading thus far.

I hope you'll continue to stick with this story because I promise that I will finish it inside the next few months. In fact, much of the remainder of _Wrath of Merlin_ has already been written, with plans for further stories to build on this work.

But without further ado, I present: 

* * *

><p><strong>XII: A Wizard in Paris<strong>

_Harry_

"_A Ministry contingent, including the Minister of Magic, will be spending Easter in France. They will discuss magical trade and security with their French and German counterparts. Representatives from Spain and Italy will also be present at what is being heralded as the largest wizarding summit in a decade."_

I flicked off the wireless and returned to my notes.

The Aurors had identified most of the Death Eaters I had killed at the Manor, and X, Y and myself were in the process of crossing them off the hitlist. It was a list that was finally growing shorter.

The Manor 'incident' had been a major victory for us, but we weren't in a celebratory mood. We still had a job to do.

The subtle change in the way X and Y had interacted with me in the last couple of weeks hadn't escaped my notice. There was a sort of wariness that hadn't been there before.

"We've got new info on Dolohov," Y said, breaking me from my thoughts.

Sergei Dolohov was one of the big names left on the list. He'd been granted a reprieve whilst we'd been working on the Death Eaters who'd attacked the orphanage, but now he was back in our sights.

"He's been recruiting in the South of France," Y continued. "And now he's making his way north."

"I think it's time to pay a visit to an old friend," X remarked.

"You mean the Parisian? You remember that he threatened to kill us if we returned?" I asked.

"That's what makes it interesting," Y replied with a casual smirk.

We were interrupted by Arthur, joining our headquarters.

"Kingsley will be with us shortly. He's amending the Letters," he explained.

"What are the Letters?" I asked, curious.

"Well, the Muggles have what they call 'Letters of Last Resort' - in the event of a nuclear strike that destroys Britain and kills their Prime Minister, the Letters are opened by the submarine commanders with orders on how to proceed - whether or not to retaliate and the like," Arthur began.

"Of course, this will never happen. The Muggles have a deterrent far better than submarines: us. Obviously, they don't know it," said Y.

"Do you really think magic could stop a nuclear bomb?" Arthur asked the Unspeakable.

X and Y looked at Arthur impassively.

Arthur Weasley studied their expressions and his face paled.

"Merlin's beard. You don't think it could…you _know_," he said, not wanting to believe it. "When?"

"The Department detonated our first nuclear bomb after the Muggle's Cuban Missile Crisis. As the Cold War continued, and the Muggles made more powerful warheads, we continued testing," X explained.

"One wizard, with the right spells, could shield a small neighbourhood. One hundred of us? The entirety of London," Y added.

"Fuck…" Arthur swore. There was something jarring about Arthur's swearing, and I wondered what else X and Y knew that the Deputy Minister for Magic did not.

"We're off topic," X said, as if the subject of magical nuclear deterrence was so commonplace that it didn't matter. "Basically, the Minister for Magic has their own set of Letters - inspired by the Muggle versions - that detail instructions in the event of a critical threat to Wizarding Britain."

"Who holds onto them?" I asked.

"The Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot, the Head of the Auror Office, and Head of Mysteries," Arthur said.

Kingsley joined us shortly after, and we discussed our plans. Under the guise of Ministry diplomats, we'd join the delegation to France, then seek out the Parisian for information. 

* * *

><p>Merely days later, we were in Paris. The French Ministry occupied a massive building near the Palace of Versailles, that was hidden in a similar way to Hogwarts. Muggles saw a private park. Wizards saw a soaring palace.<p>

We sat down in an opulent room and waited. Priceless artworks and high windows with ruby curtains drawn across surrounded us. A crystal chandelier hung above our heads.

I heard voices through a tall oaken door at one end of the room.

"...first thing you must understand is that what I'm about to show you is classified as a British state secret. The First Laws give me the right to throw you in Azkaban if you divulge what you're about to see to the public."

I recognised the voice as Kingsley's.

"Oui. I understand," a second voice replied in a clipped French accent.

The door unlocked with a click.

"Pierre, I'd like you to meet Harry Potter."

A tall Frenchman strode through, followed by Kingsley. He had dark hair and eyes that were constantly taking in his surroundings. He had the air of a man who had operated in the field.

His eyes came to rest on me.

"So it is true."

"X, and Y," Kingsley gestured, introducing the Unspeakables. "Codenames, you understand."

"Of course," Pierre replied, taking a seat.

"Gentlemen, this is Pierre Gasteau. He heads the DGMI."

"Why is French intelligence here?" X asked, his eyes narrowed.

"He's here to offer assistance," Kingsley replied. "Pierre, this is Operation Wrath of Merlin. For close to a year, we've been hunting down Dark Wizards."

"And we've had plenty of success without your help." There was an edge in X's voice I seldom heard.

"This is a matter of magical security that effects all of us, not just Wizarding Britain."

"Mightily impressive of them to volunteer now that Voldemort's gone," X said bitterly.

"I lost agents in _your_ war with the Dark Lord," Pierre's voice did not lack for steel either.

"Gentlemen, I understand that the Department of Mysteries and the DGMI have never been close, but I'm sure you can put aside history for one afternoon," Kingsley said with an hint of finality in his voice. "I have a meeting with the trade delegation. I'll trust that you'll all cooperate."

"Yes Minister," X replied, accepting Kingsley's word.

Kingsley rose from his seat and left, closing the door behind him. It shut with a click.

In a sudden burst of movement, Pierre drew his wand from his robes and pointed it straight at Y.

It caught X and I by surprise. I made to grab my own wand.

"Reach inside your robes, Mr Potter, and I will kill him. Hands on the table."

I slowly put my hands on the table, and X followed suit.

Pierre kept his wand trained on Y.

"If your friends make a move, I will kill you."

"I wouldn't," Y warned, speaking for the first time. "I've had my wand aimed at your balls from the moment you sat down."

"The name change has not made you a better spy, Ocean."

"Likewise, _François_. Nice promotion by the way," Y replied casually.

"My brother would have enjoyed his tenth wedding anniversary last month."

"He went dark. He was a double agent for the Russians and you wouldn't admit it."

"There wasn't enough proof!"

"Your own people burned him! Once he was on British soil, he became our problem. I was ordered to eliminate him," Y retorted.

X shot me a glance. I met his eyes from across the table and he gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

Launching into action, X threw up a wandless shield as I pushed Y and Pierre both back across the room. I added my own shield as Pierre tried to strike it down, battering soundlessly against the ward.

"Stand down, Y," X spoke quietly. The Unspeakable did as requested, holstering his wand.

"Pierre, you can hammer all you like against Potter's shield, it won't break. Trust me," X said, turning towards him.

I raised a hand and intensified the spell.

The Frenchman's wand arm halted in mid-air.

"Enough! Letting you kill each other would solve nothing," X spoke.

Pierre swore, but returned his wand to his robes.

I relaxed the shield and took a seat.

"Let's try and avoid a diplomatic incident today, hmm?" X asked.

Pierre nodded, shooting a final glare at Y, before sitting down.

"We need Sergei Dolohov," X said, sitting down also.

"He's deep underground. We lost him a week ago," Pierre replied.

"The Parisian, will he know?"

"I have two agents under cover with him. He is not concerned with Death Eaters."

"No?"

"The Parisian is in the middle of a gang war. May resent his power in the criminal world and challenge him."

"Is this one any different?"

"Two weeks ago, they took his daughter hostage."

"He hasn't rescued her?"

"No. But not for lack of trying. Outside, there is a battlefield. If you know where to look."

"I think we do," X replied, a gleam in his eyes. 

* * *

><p>Once again, we entered The Empire of the Dead.<p>

Deep into the tunnels, we passed the grinning skulls with their baleful stares, and crossed through the sewers. Many of the catacombs showed signs of curse damage. Pierre had been right. A gang war was raging just below the surface.

We had been journeying for perhaps twenty minutes when we were accosted by the Parisian's men. It made sense that they would be guarding the tunnels closer to the surface this time around.

"We're here to see the Parisian," said X clearly, lowering his wand. "We mean no harm."

"As you wish," said one of the men, his wand, like all the rest, trained on us. Quickly making the rest of the journey, we entered the cavernous Hall that was the seat of power in the Parisian's underground world.

The Parisian sat in a high-backed chair, a table filled with succulent food set out in front of him. Several men wearing a kind of makeshift uniform stood near him.

He looked up from his meal, swallowed his mouthful of food, and addressed us:

"I cannot decide. Gentlemen, you are either very very brave…or very very foolish."

"I'd like to think the first one," remarked Y.

"When you came 'ere last, I said you were welcome no more. To return is suicide."

"Believe me, we're not here for social pleasantries. We want information," said X.

"You know what 'as 'appened to me? What I 'ave lost? I am in ze middle of a war 'ere. I 'ave no time for yours!" the Parisian replied, standing.

"We know," said X.

"And why should I not just 'ave you killed, like I said?"

"Because if we don't return to Rue Magique in two hours, your Ministry is going to let my Ministry send the entire MLE down your holes."

"They would not. I 'ave friends inside ze Ministère."

"So do we."

"'ow do I know you are not bluffing?"

"Do I look like a man who would take that kind of chance?" asked X.

The Parisian's eyes narrowed into slits.

"Say ze MLE do come down 'ere. Zhey do not know these tunnels. Zhey will rot in ze Empire of ze Dead!" he declared.

"Are you willing to bet the lives of your men against an army of Hitwizards?" pressed X.

"If that is what it takes!" said the Frenchman angrily.

"But I don't think you want to take that risk. You run the underworld here. There isn't a single bit of organised magical crime on the Continent that you don't know about. We only want information," X pressed.

He paused.

"We don't want to start a war."

The Parisian lazily swirled a glass of wine in his hand, his eyes never leaving X.

"What do you want to know?"

"The location of Sergei Dolohov."

"I do not control Dolo'ov. I don't know where 'e is."

"He was seen in Paris."

"Oui, three days ago. I do not know where 'e is now."

"Can you find out?"

"Why?"

"You know why. He is rallying the scum of the earth from all over Europe. For many of Voldemort's followers, this will be their final stand."

"Or yours," suggested the Parisian.

X shrugged.

"We have killed many of Voldemort's supporters in the last year. My death is long overdue."

The Parisian turned to me.

"'arry Potter, is it true, what I have been told? That you alone killed twenty Death Eaters in a singlehanded attack?"

"Thirty-four."

"What?"

"Thirty-four Death Eaters," I clarified, my face a grim mask.

"Ze Chosen One indeed…" the Parisian said. "Impressive."

"Will you help us?" said X.

"Maybe. For a price."

"Name it."

"My daughter. Return 'er to me, and Dolohov is yours."

"Do you have any idea where she is?"

"My men 'ave found several leads, but zhey are not black-ops. Zhey do not know extraction ze way I think you do."

X nodded.

"I will talk with my men."

The Parisian gestured to an empty table.

"As you wish."

We sat at the table and conversed.

"Finding the girl could take time," said Y.

"But it'll be worth it to get Sergei Dolohov," I replied.

"There's no guarantee that they'll find him for us," Y objected.

"This is our best shot. We're going to have to take the risk," said X. "I'm not keen on walking into a turf war, but I see no other choice."

Y nodded.

"Then I'm in."

"Likewise," I added.

X stood and addressed the Parisian.

"Find Dolohov. We will find your daughter, and bring her back to you."

"Agreed." 

* * *

><p>Overnight, Pierre had determined the whereabouts of the Parisian's daughter. Y might've disliked the Frenchman, but I could not fault his secret service. We sat at the stakeout point, two buildings over, planning the assault in the early afternoon.<p>

"Here's the plan. Gasteau will give us a window in which we won't get any kind of interference from local law enforcement, but it'll only be about ten minutes."

X waved his wand, and a shimmering model of the building appeared in thin air.

"The building is four stories, and we'll come in from the roof. Y and I will go through a skylight, Harry through the window here."

He pointed at at the window on the model.

"From there we'll work downwards, avoiding combat on the ground and first floors."

"What about the Parisian's men?" I asked.

"They can be cannon fodder for all I care. We'll use them as a distraction if necessary."

Y smirked.

"Let's suit up."

We donned black combat gear and boots specially developed for the MLE. I strapped a line of silver canisters on my belt, and a series of black knives across my chest. I holstered my wand and donned a balaclava. X and Y did likewise.

We weren't just dressed to hunt.

We were dressed to kill. 

* * *

><p>We had watched and waited since late afternoon for the sky to grow dark, and the streets to clear.<p>

I stretched my legs, limbering up for the coming assault.

Finally, Pierre gave us the go ahead.

"Comms?" Y asked, speaking into a throat mic. We were utilising Hitwizard headsets, small silver contraptions that would allow us to communicate.

"Loud and clear," I replied.

"Right. Let's move."

We made our way over the rooftops spanning our stakeout position and the target. I waited on one side as X and Y made their way to the other rooftop entrance.

"Engage."

X's detached voice came crisply through my headset.

I moved into the building under my Cloak. Within seconds, I came face to face with a guard. I dropped him with a flick of my wand.

"Clear." I could hear X and Y's entrance through my earpiece.

"Move in."

I made my way further down the hallway as Y entered from the rooftop.

I neutralised a couple of occupied rooms with quick Stunning spells on the top floor, then made my way to the rendezvous point. X and Y had already arrived.

X was speaking in rapid French with a terrified-looking Albanian man, wand trained on his face.

"She's in the basement."

Y swore as X stunned his prisoner with a red flash.

"That's three floors and then the basement."

"Reckon it's time for that distraction?" asked Y.

"Call it in," X directed.

Y spoke with one of the Parisian's lieutenants through his communicator, instructing them to launch an attack on the main entrance to the building.

"Harry, make your way to the basement," X instructed. "We'll clear out the middle floors."

I made my way to a flight of stairs and descended down to the first floor, just as a muffled boom came from the east of the building, followed by shouts.

A man rushed past me towards the noise, followed shortly by two more.

At least the Parisian's men had been good for something.

I Stunned my way past one more guard on the ground floor, and entered the basement.

Two guards stood watching over Marie, chained and huddled in a corner, her eyes wide with fright.

Neither saw me coming.

I tore both wands from their hands in a single sweeping movement, and shot pinpoint Stunners that dropped them scant seconds later.

Another flick of my wand freed the girl of her bonds.

"It's okay," I reassured her awkwardly, giving her a hand to her feet.

"I've got her," I addressed my headset.

"Good. Get out," came X's reply.

I paused momentarily, weighing up my options. My primary objective was getting Marie out of the building safely. That meant avoiding the battle on the ground and first floors.

I wrapped my arm around Marie's waist as she clung to me with frail arms.

"Hold on," I instructed. She nodded in mute understanding.

I raised my wand up to the low ceiling of the basement.

"_Ascendio bombarda!"_

The ceiling above us exploded upwards, pure energy crackling around me as my feet left the floor and we punched through not one, two, or three, but _four _floors at breakneck pace.

Our ascent was over in a matter of seconds, and I levitated us over to the safe zone three buildings over.

"Asset clear."

"We noticed," came back Y's reply.

I wrapped Marie in a woollen emergency blanket charmed to provide heat and prevent shock.

She gave me a shy smile at the gesture. I shrugged it off.

Just standard operating procedure.

I had no illusions as to why I was doing this. I wasn't playing the rescuing hero anymore. Her salvation had come because her father could get us Dolohov.

And that fact didn't bother me in the slightest. 

* * *

><p>We made the trip underground for the second time in as many days, the Parisian's men leading our contingent, with Marie in tow, followed by ourselves and Pierre, his eyes glinting in the darkness.<p>

As we got closer to the Parisian's base, a couple of men blindfolded Pierre. Surprisingly, the Frenchman didn't seem to mind.

As we entered the chamber, we were met by the Parisian's quick strides, closing the distance quickly before embracing his daughter.

Genuine gratitude shone on his face as he turned to face us.

"And now I 'ave something for you."

He snapped his fingers, and two men, dragging a third between them in chains, made their way over. The Parisian ripped a black bag off the head of the chained man to reveal our prize.

"Sergei Dolohov..." drawled X. "Do you know who we are?"

His eyes darted to me with a new emotion: fear.

"You're wondering: are the rumours true? Did Harry Potter single-handedly put thirty-four of your mates to the sword?" X continued.

"The answer is _yes_."

I put my wand to his temple, and it gave a jolt in my hand as I sent a curse into his skull. He dropped, writhing about on the ground in pain. I sensed the shields on his mind fail as he shrieked in pain.

It only took a few minutes for X to glean any valuable information from Dolohov.

'I'm done," he announced, giving Y a curt nod.

Y drew his wand and fired a bolt of black at Dolohov's prone figure.

He died silently, blood running from his nostrils.

We had arrived in Paris less than 72 hours ago, and our mission was over. It was all becoming too easy.

I could feel Pierre's eyes on me, a speculative mask hiding his true emotions.

"What are you?" he asked, his voice giving away no more than his face.

I hesitated at the peculiar question, but Y answered for the three of us.

"We're Wrath of Merlin. We don't forget. And we sure as hell don't forgive." 

* * *

><p>AN: I needed something to ensure Pierre's silence, so I invented 'The First Laws' - an international magical treaty that recognises Britain's exalted status in the Wizarding World.

I'm aware that Ginny has had little to do in the last few chapters. As the story has evolved to focus on Harry's actions in the aftermath of the war, I feel writing filler scenes for Ginny wouldn't really benefit the story currently. However, she will be making a return in future chapters.

Please let me know what you think!


	13. The Beautiful Game

A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed last chapter, feedback is always appreciated.

This is later than I had hoped, but updates should come faster from now on, as my university year is coming to an end.

Shameless plug for a recent Teddy and Victoire story I published entitled 'Wedding and a Window' - it's a decent length one shot, bit of a romantic comedy thing, but I reckon it's good to practice in different genres to expand my writing. So check it out!

* * *

><p><strong>XIII: The Beautiful Game<strong>

_Ginny_

_HARRY POTTER SIGHTED IN PARIS DURING MINISTRY VISIT_

Paris. He was in Paris.

I continued to read.

_Mere coincidence? Rumours that Harry Potter is secretly working with the Ministry gained further traction today as French tabloid magazine _L'W_ released this image only hours ago._

The article was accompanied by a grainy image showing Harry and another man clad in black. But despite the poor quality of the image, there was no mistaking it was him.

_It comes in the middle of the Ministry trade and relations delegation to Paris, where senior officials will meet with their European counterparts. The photo will inevitably raise questions… _

I put the paper down, taking a bite out of my toast, and continued reading.

"I take it you've seen the _Prophet _then?" Hermione said as she joined me at the Gryffindor table.

"Yeah," I said, checking my watch. "Why are you so late to breakfast?"

Hermione flushed. "I was out with Ron last night, and I didn't get in until this morning."

I made a face. "Spare me."

Hermione gave me a small smirk, and pointed at the newspaper in front of me.

"This is the first picture of him in months. Any guesses as to what he's doing?"

I shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Well, I think I know," Hermione replied.

"What is it?"

Casting looks up and down the table, Hermione's voice dropped low.

"Do you have anything important on today?"

"Only Quidditch practice tonight. The game is this Saturday, remember?"

"Classes?"

"None that I can't catch up on."

"Me neither. I'll explain in the Room of Requirement. Let's go."

I nodded mutely, too shocked that Hermione had chosen to skip class of her own free will, to reply.

* * *

><p>I watched with trepidation as Hermione paced up and down the corridor. The brunette wouldn't have brought me here unless she had something big.<p>

The door appeared and she ushered me inside. The walls were covered in pictures and notes, linked with shimmering magical thread. I'd seen similar in the Auror Office. Every single magical thread lead back to a large picture of Harry.

"This is every single piece of information I could find on Harry's whereabouts over the last year."

"Hermione, this is incredible."

A proud look crossed her features. "You haven't seen anything yet."

Brandishing her wand, she began.

"This is what we know about Harry so far: two days after the Battle of Hogwarts, he disappears. No one knows why, and no one can explain it. We don't know how long for, or even if he'll return at all. What is the Ministry response? Well, Kingsley -" she pointed with her wand at a thread connecting the Minister to Harry and it lit up, "- immediately pledged to find Harry, and assigned the Aurors to the job. But here's the thing. When we visited Amy, I noticed that no one seemed to be working on finding him. So I did some digging. It turns out that the Aurors were quickly reassigned to diplomatic protection soon after Harry's disappearance."

"So they haven't been looking?" I asked.

"No. But that's not all. The Aurors are usually the amongst the first responders to any attack or crisis. But in the last six months, they've been mobilised less and less. Think about the number of attacks we've had lately. How many dark wizards do you think the Aurors have caught in that same timeframe? Ten? Twenty? Fifty?"

"How many?"

"Six. They've caught six."

"How do you know all this?"

"Like I said, I did some digging. But this is still scratching the surface. The Aurors have only caught six. But in the same time, they've found over _two hundred_ people with connections to Voldemort. All of them dead," she said, her features grave.

"Someone else is out there. Someone else is killing Dark wizards."

"Who, but…you still don't -" I said.

"There's more," Hermione interjected. "You remember that Amy Rogers sen at package to me before she died?" "Yeah, and that she mentioned meeting an Unspeakable, who took over an investigation she was working on, saying that the Department of Mysteries was going to handle it," I recalled.

"That's right. I uncovered more information that corroborates with her theory."

Hermione drew another golden line between the headings 'AURORS' and 'BOMBING'.

"Here. The bombings on the Ministry of Magic. Apparently, the Aurors got a lead on the suspects, but the entire mission was taken out of their hands. They only arrived after the Death Eater hideout had been destroyed. Official report was that the Demolition Draught in the hideout had exploded. What actually happened was that the Aurors arrived to a smoking ruin. Again, someone else was responsible."

Hermione paused and fixed me with a somber expression.

"Ginny, I didn't want to believe it, just like you. But the evidence is mounting, and I can't ignore it. If it's true, if Amy Rogers was right, than at the very least, the Ministry is committing what Muggles call crimes against humanity. It's an overreach of Ministry power on a level Fudge could have only dreamed about. What makes us civilised is the right to a fair trial of our peers. Imagine living in a world where you're not allowed to defend yourself against accusation!"

"Where does Harry fit in?

"Ginny, I think he's that someone else. Not alone though. He's probably working with that Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries. Some sort of clandestine special operation."

"You don't know that it's Harry though! Yeah, the evidence points to _someone_, but not necessarily him!"

Hermione held up a placating hand. "The attack on the orphanage. Can you think of anything that would enrage Harry more?"

I paused for a moment, mulling over her question.

"I can't, but that's still a flimsy argument, Hermione. You're implying that Dark wizards attacked an orphanage because they knew Harry was after them?"

"I know, but bear with me. Say that that was the case. You agree that Harry would have had motive to retaliate. Now imagine Harry had discovered their hideout and attacked them."

She paused, and another magical thread lit up between Harry and a bunch of notes.

"There are whispers in the MLE, talk in hushed tones about what happened that night. Kingsley gave the Aurors credit, but here's the thing: again, the Aurors showed up after the party was already over - their words, not mine. They found the occupants dead. The few that they could properly ID were all Death Eaters."

"One of the Aurors, a new recruit called Tom Delaney was injured that night. The official statement at St Mungos said that he'd sustained injuries in the firefight. But they were actually treating him for a modified memory."

"He seemed to be on the way to recovery, but two days ago, he died. The staff at St Mungos don't know why. I spoke to his supervising Healer yesterday, and she mentioned that he'd said something to her, two words, over and over again. Latching onto significant phrase or word is a common symptom with severe memory impairment from spell damage."

"What were the words?" I asked. In my heart, I already knew.

Hermione answered:

"Harry. Potter."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"How the fuck were you seen?" X exclaimed.

"I don't know. I didn't sense or spot any press," I said, exasperated.

"Fucking Gasteau. He's responsible for this. His people set the perimeter," Y said accusingly.

"We can't be certain it was him," X said.

"I know he wants us out of France," Y replied.

"I don't have a problem with that. We got Dolohov, why are we still here?" I asked. "Surely we could be doing better things in London?"

"No. We're going to find out how you were spotted. If there's a leak, I want it gone," X said.

Y and I nodded. It was the logical course of action.

"Good. We start with the tabloid that got the photos. I want an address within ten minutes," instructed X.

* * *

><p>Kingsley looked up at the ornate ceiling, concealing a yawn as the French Finance Minister droned on.<p>

"The Ministry also has significant foreign debts, not to mention the deficit caused by the rebuild. How can you expect to pay us back?"

"Minister Shacklebolt?"

"Hmm?" Kingsley was shaken from his inspection of the ceiling.

"How are you going to afford our loans?"

"We're repatriating the funds of war criminals. Turns out the only thing that purebloods like more than themselves is their money. We think that will help to cover our costs," Kingsley replied sharply.

"But that will be dependent on the trial process - which, I might add, has not started. The richest will have solid legal defences. You cannot take away their money if you cannot prove them guilty, Minister."

"They're guilty, believe me. And they'll pay dearly for it. If Gringotts is happy with our credit rating, than you should be too."

A small bell-like sound pealed through the meeting room, interrupting the discussion.

"Excellent. We'll return in an hour after lunch?" the finance official asked.

"I'm afraid I won't be joining you. I have another meeting on collective security I wish to attend."

The French diplomat nodded stiffly. As Kingsley departed, he was unsure whether the other man was disappointed or pleased to see him go.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

We made our way to the heart of Rue Magique, which, like Diagon Alley in England, was a cornerstone of Wizarding France.

"All the media is clustered on this side street," said Y, as we passed the _Daily Prophet_'s European Correspondence Office. All three of us were in disguise.

"_L'W _is a bit further down. They're hardly the shining standard of journalism, but they pay best for celebrity pictures."

We reached the entrance, and approached reception. A blonde girl with her hair pulled back into a bun stood to greet us.

"Bonjour."

"You American?" X asked.

"Yeah," the girl replied, surprised that he had heard through her accent. "Um, how can I help?"

"We're here to see the editor."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Nope."

"I can't let you see her then, I'm sorry."

Y's wand was at her forehead in an instant.

"You'll take us to see her, and you'll do it quietly. You understand?"

She nodded timidly, and led us down a hallway. She stopped at the end and pointed at a door.

Y Stunned her silently, catching and setting her on the floor as she crumpled.

X didn't bother to knock on the door. He burst through, and placed a body-bind from the neck down on a slim woman wearing a purple blouse.

"English?" X asked.

"Oui, er, yes," the woman replied, stammering.

"Where did you get the picture of Harry Potter from?" X demanded.

"I…I don't tell my, ah, sources."

"That's brave. Ever been cruciated?" Y asked laconically.

The woman's face went white.

"That'll do," X said to Y, before turning his attention back to the terrified witch. "_Legilimens!_"

The woman gave a short gasp as X invaded her mind.

"She doesn't know his name. Man, dressed in a black cloak."

"_That_ narrows it down," Y muttered dryly.

X gave a flick of his wand and the woman dropped to the floor. Tapping his wand to his own forehead, he took a silvery strand of memory and deposited it into a silver vial. He then turned his wand back to the woman.

"_Obliviate."_

"We're done here."

* * *

><p><em>Kingsley<em>

"…which brings us to a, ah, more delicate topic."

"Minister Shacklebolt?"

At the mention of his name, Kingsley's attention returned to the collective security meeting. Sat next to him was Arthur, and representatives from the French, German, Russian, and Italian Ministries.

"We know what you 'ave buried deep in your Ministry, Kingsley."

"What might that be? Harry Potter?" Kingsley smirked.

"Harry Potter is not a subject for discussion," Arthur added firmly.

"You are mistaken, Minister Shacklebolt. I do not mean ze Boy 'ho Lived," the French Minister said.

"Then I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ah, do not be coy, Minister. You know as well as I do zhat 'arry Potter is not ze only weapon you 'ave in ze Department of Mysteries."

Kingsley did not respond; his face a stoic mask.

"My DGIM is not stupid. Zhey 'ave 'eard ze whispers. Answer me zhis, Kingsley. 'ow do you stop Potter if 'e goes dark?"

"You will not confirm or deny it, but we know. We know what you will use against Potter should ze need arise. And we 'ave our concerns, too."

"One person should not 'ave zhis kind of power."

Kingsley snapped, suddenly angry.

"Little over a year ago, my country was ruled by a tyrant hellbent on personally killing me and every person I know. You don't have to tell me about individual fucking power!"

"Minister, we-" one of the Russians began.

"You fucks stood idly by, waiting until the smoke cleared to side with the victor. Now you chastise me because I'm doing everything I possibly can to prevent it from ever happening again? The fucking nerve."

"I don't expect you to like, hell, I sure don't. But it - and don't think that I'm admitting that 'it' even exists - is the price we have to pay for security."

'Gentlemen, for millenia, Britain has dictated the course of the Wizarding World. We are bloody, we are battered, but we are not beaten. It would pay for you all to remember that."

"This meeting's done."

Kingsley slammed his fist down on the table a second time, and made to leave.

"One more thing!" he paused, turning back to the table and pointing an angry finger at the French Interior Minister. "Put a leash on your fucking press! If your _L'W_ shitrag prints one more picture of Harry Potter, I'll put your entire fucking Department in Azkaban."

And with that, Kingsley stalked out of the room, followed by Arthur.

"What do you call that?" Arthur exclaimed.

"Aggressive negotiations," Kingsley replied, his jaw clenched.

"I have a sudden yearning for London," Arthur said mildly.

"Same," Kingsley grunted.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"How were your meetings?" X asked Kingsley and Arthur as they joined us in the Department of Mysteries to debrief, an hour after arriving in London.

"I'm fairly sure we won't be on the Interior Minister's Christmas card list," Kingsley replied.

"Was there anyone in the French Ministry we didn't insult?" Arthur asked him.

"Come to think of it, I don't think so, no."

"Productive visit, then," Y remarked.

"How did you get on with the tabloid?" Arthur said.

"Didn't establish much of a lead to work on, unfortunately," X reported.

Kingsley nodded.

"Do you have anything that's time sensitive?"

"Nothing that can't wait if necessary."

"Good. I want all hands available for the memorial next week. Merlin knows something will happen."

His eyes turned to fix on me.

"Ready to return to Hogwarts?"

I nodded mutely.

It had been a year since I had been at the castle - the only real home I'd ever known. Come next week, I would be seeing people I hadn't seen in a year, people who had placed their lives on the line to protect me, and had lost loved ones just as I had.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

I flew high over the Quidditch Stadium in the last game I'd ever play at Hogwarts: a classic Gryffindor versus Slytherin final.

And I'd be damned if I didn't win.

I dived down and intercepted a Quaffle pass, continuing my dive as the crowd roared in appreciation. I levelled out and accelerated. A Bludger grazed past my elbow, but it didn't do enough damage to throw me.

I shot past their last Chaser into the scoring zone, feinted right, and flung the Quaffle through the central hoop.

_AND GINNY WEASLEY MAKES THE TEN! GRYFFINDOR LEAD BY FORTY POINTS!_

Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies was one of many famous Quidditch personalities and scouts watching today, and I knew they were looking for a new Chaser.

I was looking for employment.

An hour later, and I'd just put my 22nd Quaffle through the hoops.

_GRYFFINDOR LEAD 340 TO 110! THEIR CHASERS ARE SIMPLY TOO GOOD! AND THERE'S NUMBER 23 FOR GINNY WEASLEY!_

I was bleeding from two cuts, sweaty and exhausted from the effort I'd put in, and aching from four Bludger hits, but I was happy.

This was it.

This was the final I'd dreamed of.

Grinning, I flew back to the Gryffindor end, leaving the Slytherin Keeper swearing as he went to retrieve the Quaffle.

The Quaffle had just been launched when a cheer went up from the crowd. The Seekers were both in pursuit of the Snitch, but I didn't stop to look.

After a few passes by the Slytherin Chasers, I intercepted the Quaffle and blitzed past the crowd on my way to the Slytherin end.

_GRYFFINDOR'S JOHNSON IS PULLING AHEAD, IT LOOKS LIKE SHE'LL MAKE IT…_

I was mere feet away from the Slytherin keeper. One more goal, and the Snitch, and we'd make 500 points.

_SHE'S CLOSING IN…!_

I didn't know if the commentator was talking about me or my Seeker, but I hurled the Quaffle with all my might at the hoop.

The Slytherin Keeper stretched his arm out in desperation, but it brushed past his fingertips…

...and went through.

I punched the air in celebration just as Amelia Johnson closed her hand around the Snitch. The crowd were on their feet, screaming.

_AND THAT'S IT! 500 POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR, THE PERFECT END TO A PERFECT SEASON!_

It was perfect.

As we landed, we were smothered and hoisted onto the collective shoulders of Gryffindor House.

Luna's lion roared in the background, and I laughed with tears in my eyes. I could see Ron and Hermione cheering from the student section.

I shook Professor McGonagall's hand, and smiling, she handed me the Quidditch Cup. I held it high in the air to the deafening noise of the crowd.

It really was perfect.

I handed the Cup to Amelia, who took it to a second cheer, and raised up my hand to signal five.

Five hundred points.

And then Gwenog Jones was shaking my hand, and saying I'd be hearing from her shortly, and then the grin wouldn't leave my face.

And in that moment, it didn't matter that Harry wasn't there to congratulate me, to put his arms around me, and kiss me in the middle of a crowded Common Room.

It didn't matter.

It was perfect.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

In my small room deep beneath London, I flicked off the Quidditch broadcast on my wireless, and smiled for the first time in months.

* * *

><p>AN: A bit of a filler in some respects, but brings Ginny and Hermione up to speed. Next chapter is my take on Memorial Day. Finally, thanks for reading, and please review!


	14. Requiem

A/N: This chapter. Hell of a challenge. I've been working on it on and off for over a year. I wanted to get the 'first anniversary' right, as it's such a big part of post-DH stories, and at the same time, not have it turn into a cliche. But finally, it's at a stage where I'm happy to share it...

* * *

><p><strong>XIV: Requiem<strong>

"But Death replied: 'I choose him.' So he went,  
>And there was silence in the summer night;<br>Silence and safety; and the veils of sleep.  
>Then, far away, the thudding of the guns."<p>

- Siegfried Sassoon, _The Death Bed_

_Ginny_

"These are the terms: you'll start at base rookie salary, which is capped across the league. If you're promoted to second string, then you also get a corresponding rise. Sign here, please," said the lawyer.

I did so.

"Starting players and active reserve get a bonus for each victory - one of the perks of playing for us, I might add," he added.

"The League is not liable for any injury you may incur as a result of playing Quidditch. However, if you're injured, then the Team does cover the cost of your treatment. You're put on injured reserve and only receive sickness pay. Sign again."

I nodded and scrawled my name with the quill.

"For misdemeanours, or behaviour that reflects poorly on the Team, penalties include League fines, game bans, or demotion. And this one too," he added, gesturing to the parchment in front of me.

"Press correspondence is dealt through the Team's Press Office. They'll brief you on appropriate procedure. Complete this for membership to the Players' Association - they provide legal representation in the event of a dispute.

"Finally, we offer an accommodation stipend for renting in London - apply using this form - and when you're in Holyhead, you're more than welcome to stay at the team barracks."

He stood and shook my hand warmly.

Gwenog Jones, who had been standing imposingly in the corner, broke into a smile.

"Congratulations, Ginny. We'll see you back in six weeks. But first…" she handed me a small brown package. "…Open it."

With a rip, I tore the packaging to reveal a Harpies Team Jersey. Emblazoned in gold lettering was the word _WEASLEY _and the number _16._

"Welcome to the Holyhead Harpies."

I looked at the time on my wristwatch.

Half past two, May 1st.

I would remember this moment for the rest of my life.

But I couldn't help but dread tomorrow.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I parried a curse, and countered with white lighting, pinning one of my opponents down. It gave me the opening I needed.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _

She slumped lifelessly to the floor next to her partner, whom I had taken out with my opening salvo.

Two down, three to go.

Their crimes in the war had been minor. But crimes they had committed nevertheless.

One of the remaining three - a large, stocky man - rushed at me from my left.

Brave? Perhaps, but my first choice would have been _stupid_.

I reached out with my hand, using wandless magic to fling him through the air into the path of an oncoming curse.

A shield charm blocked a desperate flurry of hexes from the last two assailants as I waited for an opening.

One of the two hesitated, and it was all I needed.

A curse like a shotgun blast exploded a hole through her chest, and she too, fell.

The last, a balding wizard, gave a yell and rushed at me.

I neatly sidestepped him, making three quick motions with my wand.

The first slashing jinx took his wand. The second, his wrist. The third, his throat.

Blood came rushing down his front as he gasped with his dying breaths.

I surveyed the scene with grim appreciation, and spoke into my headset.

"Y?"

"Reading you, Harry."

"Lancashire house is clear. Five targets neutralised."

"Three for three tonight. Excellent. See you back at Mysteries."

I cast a small tongue of Fiendfyre, and watched as it ravaged through the room, eliminating the battle scene. Extinguishing the flame before it could grow too strong, I walked out of the house into the pale light that comes before dawn.

It was just another ordinary day.

Or at least that's what I tried to tell myself.

Except that couldn't be farther from the truth.

Today was not an ordinary day.

Today was the 2nd of May.

* * *

><p>Kingsley woke early. He sat up, massaging his wrist, examining the thin scar that ran down his left forearm. Tom Riddle had gifted him the injury a year ago to the day.<p>

He ran a hand over his scalp and stood, glancing at the clock.

3 minutes past 5 o'clock.

Lacing a pair of well-worn trainers, he stepped outside and closed his door with a soft click.

"Good morning, Minister," greeted an Auror, materialising out of thin air.

"Morning Jones," nodded Kingsley in reply.

The headlights of a Range Rover lit up behind him as the Minister for Magic began his morning run. His feet pounded the footpath as he ran into the crisp spring air, the Aurors following him at a close distance.

Jacobs, the Auror driving the Range Rover, put his vehicle into gear with a yawn.

"Bloody morning run. This was a lot easier with Fudge. Never got up before eight."

"It won't be a Dark Wizard that gets me, it'll be the lack of sleep," remarked his partner, O'Hara, sitting in the passenger seat.

"At least we don't have to run with him today," Jacobs replied.

"What's Royal saying?"

"He'll be practising his speech for the memorial," said Jacobs, "He's been working on it all week."

A few blocks later, Kingsley stopped at the street corner, leaning with one arm on the streetlamp as he caught his breath.

"Royal's stopped," O'Hara remarked.

"Eyes on the perimeter."

"Hooded man, on the opposite corner," Jacobs spotted. "He's masking his energy but he's definitely a wizard."

"He's watching Royal."

"Eyes on him."

"Consider hostile," said O'Hara, putting a hand on her wand.

The man in grey reached a hand into his jersey pocket.

"Hand!"

"GO! GO!"

The Range Rover pulled up in front of Kingsley, tires screeching.

"In the car!" Jones shouted.

Kingsley was pushed through the car door, landing on the back seat as Jacobs slammed his foot to the floor. The Range Rover accelerated impossibly fast, weaving between cars and pedestrians as it shot away.

"You don't think you're being a bit paranoid?" Kingsley asked, sprawled across the back seat.

"Not today," O'Hara replied.

Back on the corner, the man in the grey hoodie smirked, and disappeared into the night.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

After catching a couple of hours of sleep back in London, I woke and dressed, pulling on a black shirt, and my black dragonhide. I slid my wand into a holster, and donned my Invisibility Cloak.

The memorial at Hogwarts didn't begin until noon, but virtually all the senior Ministry officials and the Wizengamot would be making their way to the castle early.

I made my way to the Atrium. On any given day it would be busy, but today it was packed.

Kingsley, Arthur, and a couple of other senior officials were dressed in white robes. I saw several Department Heads, including X, amongst them. The entire Wizengamot were there too, scattered in small clusters, also dressed in white.

The Aurors were out in force, in striking blood-red robes and a stony expression on every face. At a shouted command, they snapped into formation, creating a wall around the officials.

The expression on X's face was identical to that of the Aurors.

To any watching enemy, the message was clear. To get to the Minister, they would have to make their way through a wall of death.

A squadron of Hitwizards marched past the congregation, and quickly Flooed into the fireplaces.

They were the advance guard. The entire party would arrive at Hogsmeade and make their way to the castle.

I spotted Y in the crowd, leaning up against a wall with a scowl on his face, dressed in robes of dark blue, with a silver band around the cuffs. Like so many others, his colours were a clear message: Unspeakable.

A group of tittering secretaries - in light blue - kept stealing glances at Y with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. He just kept scowling.

About five minutes later, another shout went out, and the entire congregation began to move towards the fireplaces.

I made my own way to the streets of London, and with a _crack, _Apparated to Hogsmeade.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

"It's stupid. Part of me hoped he would come today."

"Me too," Ron admitted.

After Harry's disappearance, we had all coped in our own way. Ron had thrown himself into the joke shop following George's breakdown.

"Figure the world could do with a laugh," he had said with a shrug, turning down his final year at Hogwarts, not to mention thousands of galleons in promotional work, book deals, or endorsements. One company had approached him about becoming the spokes-wizard for their products.

"_Hi, I'm Ron Weasley, and I choose Spectreglow? Fuck off."_

At times it was hard to remember that Ron had lost his best mate - someone who had been by his side for seven years.

"Come, it's almost time," said Hermione, reaching out to straighten Ron's robes.

We made our way over to our seats, joining a group of dignitaries in a row of chairs marked 'VIP'.

It was a funny thing. I hadn't felt important when I committed to the Battle. I didn't feel important now.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

My heart was heavy as I looked out at the crowd. So many people were here, those who I had abandoned without explanation, those who had given so much in my defence.

They had put their faith in me, and to their knowledge, I had done nothing to repay them.

I watched as a towering obelisk was unveiled. It was pure white marble, marred only by an inscription into the stone. From my position, it was difficult to see, but I could just make out the words:

II.

ON THIS DAY, HOGWARTS WAS ATTACKED BY THE FORCES OF DARKNESS

ON THIS DAY, HER CHILDREN GAVE THEIR LIVES IN HER DEFENCE

ON THIS DAY, HARRY POTTER DEFEATED TOM RIDDLE

ON THIS DAY, FREEDOM OVERCAME TYRANNY

ON THIS DAY, WE REMEMBER

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

I watched as Kingsley unveiled the imposing obelisk. Despite the grey day, it shone brightly, a gleaming tribute to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Kingsley tapped his wand to his throat, and began to speak.

"One year ago, a terrible evil the likes of nothing the wizarding world has ever seen struck this sacred place. I believe that one of the greatest examples of Voldemort's - and I will say his name, for it is only a name - evil was that he chose to deliberately target children. But he was unsuccessful!"

"This is a day of celebration - the day freedom reigned supreme over oppression, over prejudice, over fear!"

"But all that we gained came at a terrible price. I believe that every single person here today lost someone. I see people who lost friends. I see people who lost family. I see people who lost parents, who lost lovers, who lost brothers."

I thought of Fred.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

As Kingsley began his speech, I slipped away from the service.

I had somewhere else to be.

I made my way down the grounds, past Hagrid's rebuilt hut - an uncanny copy of the original - and to the Forbidden Forest.

Today, there was no fear.

I walked deep into the forest, retracing my footsteps almost exactly as I had first laid them down a year ago.

This was one journey I would never forget.

I paused at the place I remembered first summoning my parents, Sirius, and Remus.

If I searched around, I would probably find the Resurrection Stone in the woods ahead. For a brief moment, I was tempted to summon it. I knew it would respond to my call. I was, after all, the master of the Hallows.

But then the moment passed.

The Stone would not return them to me.

Nothing would.

Grimly, I kept on going.

I made my way around a tree, and then, there it was.

The clearing where I had died.

There was a lingering darkness here. It had been a year, but the earth was still tainted with Voldemort's presence. His evil had left a stain everywhere.

"I won, you bastard," I murmured quietly.

I walked around the clearing, and stood where he had stood, moments before killing me and the Horcrux he had unknowingly created.

"Was it worth it, Tom? All the killing? What did it get you, in the end?"

I answered my own question:

"You got fuck all! You never got your world, never got your pureblood paradise! How did it feel, having part of your soul ripped from you, all those times…all for nothing?"

A cool spring wind rustled through the trees. I sat on a blackened tree stump.

"And for every one of mine you killed, I'm killing two of yours."

I noted the last with particular satisfaction.

Suddenly, goosebumps rose on my arms. My magical senses were alerted.

Drawing my wand, I drew a complex enchantment in the air. A shimmering, golden light expanded throughout the clearing. When it reached the fringe, the golden light became an angry red, and then darkened to inky black.

Dark Magic. It had festered, like a tumour, waiting to ensnare the unwary.

I countered it with Dark Magic of my own.

A pulsating wave of black energy burst from my wand, engulfing the opposing magic.

If this clearing was destined to be cursed, then it would be my curse alone.

I forced more power, more anger into my spell, fuelling the magic.

And then, the black aura vanished. The crackling energy dissipated. It was done.

I walked out of the clearing as the grass wilted underfoot, and the trees around the fringe began to blacken and die.

Spring would not come here again. No life would grow anew. No animal would ever burrow through the undergrowth, no bird would ever fly overhead. Nature would reject this clearing for eternity.

It was a memorial only to death.

I stopped, and cast a ward around the boundary of the clearing.

There were many, many reasons why the Forbidden Forest was forbidden. My clearing would just become another one.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

"… alongside Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Slughorn I took on Voldemort myself. He was like no one I have ever fought in battle. We were all swept aside by his terrible power. But one was not. One was able to stand up against him, as his equal. I am, of course, talking about Harry Potter. Harry Potter was able to defeat Voldemort. Many of you here today witnessed his courage and his sacrifice to avenge his family, defend his friends, and to bring freedom to the wizarding world."

"I do not know where Harry is. But I am sure his thoughts and his heart are with all of us today."

"You are all survivors of the tyranny we fought so valiantly against. You have all suffered loss. Friends, family, loved ones…each and every single one a hero - these are the people we mourn here today. We will remember them. Time will dim the pain of their loss, but not the significance of their deeds."

"We _will_ remember them," he repeated.

"They gave their hopes, for victory, for the triumph of good over evil."

"They gave their lives, in the defence of their school, in the defence of their beloved, in the pursuit of freedom."

"And to those who would have been their sons and daughters, they gave their immortality."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I made my way out of the Forbidden Forest, near where the White Tomb held Dumbledore.

I took a seat by the shore next to the Tomb, ignoring the subtle pull of the Elder Wand.

My thoughts went back to the wizard who held it still.

What would he have thought of Wrath of Merlin? He would have hated it, surely. But then, it wasn't so different from his own endgame. He'd sent me to my death, after all. I was simply part of the means to an end.

All for _the greater good_.

As I walked around the edge of the lake, I came across an illuminated marble monument dotted neatly amongst a grove of trees.

_Remus Lupin & Nymphadora 'Tonks' Lupin_

_Here they fell in battle, in hope that in their ending, they would deliver us a new beginning_

I was reminded that every single day I remained hidden was another day I'd lost with Teddy. I had broken my promise to Remus.

I lifted my wand, and conjured rose buds that wove their way in amongst the trees.

With a flick, the buds began to bloom, producing flowers that had an almost unearthly beauty - flowers that would not wither and die, but stay golden for a hundred lifetimes.

I made a vow to show Teddy this place, when it was time for him to understand the sacrifice his parents made.

He would be the last orphan.

"Forgive me, Remus," I whispered, then turned my back on the shimmering light.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

"Hiya, Fred."

I looked at his tombstone:

FRED WEASLEY

_He is our brother still._

"That's a godawful pun," Bill remarked, an arm around Fleur.

George gave a shaky laugh.

"He would've liked it."

Percy handed me a bouquet of flowers with a sad smile and I placed them down on the grave.

"We hope that you can hear us…and, we just want to say that we love you, and we miss you, every day."

Charlie knelt beside me, and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"The world's not quite the same without you, but we won, Fred. _You_ won," he said.

"Your absence is the darkness now," Percy murmured quietly.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I made my way back to the memorial site and approached the monument. It was deserted now, with most of the party taking lunch in the Great Hall.

Y came into sight.

"Harry, you there?"

"Yeah."

"Not hungry?"

"Nah, you?"

"Neither."

I traced my hand over a couple of the names, remembering their faces, their voices, the way they asked a question in class, or celebrated a Quidditch win. I paused, and lifted my hand.

COLIN CREEVY

"Children. They were just children."

"They were heroes, Harry."

"Do you think it would bring them comfort, knowing that the ones who killed them are marked for death?" I asked.

"I'd like to think so," Y replied.

A moment of silence passed, then:

"Were you scared?"

"Terrified."

Y nodded.

"I'm shit company on a day like this."

"I don't think I'll be winning any prizes for most sociable wizard any time soon either," I replied.

He smirked in reply.

"Did you hear about Kingsley's run in this morning?" he asked.

"No, what happened?"

"Aurors got spooked. Evacked him on his morning run."

"He'll be pissed."

"He got over it. Can't say I blame the Aurors though. Some nutter is bound to try something stupid today."

"Have we received any threats?"

"Nothing. No new clients, either. The three safe houses you took out last night were the last targets we had."

Y checked his watch.

"Let's go. The lunch is scheduled to be over soon anyway."

"Sure."

I turned my back on Hogwarts, as I had done nearly a year ago to join Wrath of Merlin, and Disapparated.

* * *

><p>Long after the crowds had departed, and night fell over the castle, Filius Flitwick knocked on McGonagall's office door.<p>

"Enter," her voice called out.

"Good evening, Minerva."

"Filius, it's late - what brings you in at this time of night?"

"A couple of students, they were…ahem, well, they came across the memorial stone for Remus and Tonks, and it seems like someone has cast golden roses amongst the grove."

"Really?"

"It wasn't you?"

"No," she replied, "Why do you ask?"

"The charms work is very advanced, Minerva. Even the likes of Miss Granger would find it challenging. The sort of thing that Shacklebolt might be adept at. That's why I came to see if you'd done it."

"Well, I can assure you it wasn't me. Or the Minister for that matter, he was with me nearly the whole day."

"Peculiar. I went down and took a look for myself. The flowers seem to be everlasting. It's a lovely tribute," Flitwick replied, tapping a thin finger against one of Dumbledore's silver instruments sitting on McGonagall's desk.

"It's not dangerous at all, is it?"

"Not at all. I detected a faint magical signature, but nothing more. As I said, very advanced spell work."

"You didn't get anything from the signature?"

Flitwick frowned, and paused with his tinkering.

"A hint…it seemed similar to none other than Harry Potter's."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Potter? Do you think he was here? Could he do that spell?"

"I don't know. Potter wasn't a bad student by any means, but the level of finesse here seems beyond his talents. Then again, it has been two years since he was in my classroom."

"He would have the motive. He was very close with Remus, and Nymphadora too. They named him godfather of their son."

"I wasn't aware. Perhaps it was him then," the tiny Charms Professor concluded.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

"What do you think of his disappearance, Minerva?"

The Headmistress gave a sigh, and rubbed her weary eyes.

"I have faith in Harry Potter, Filius. And I know my student. Whatever he is doing, it is important for the future of our world."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

Later that night, I was studying the large map pinned to the wall in our operations room deep within the Department of Mysteries, when X entered.

"Where's Y?"

"Making some tea."

"Grab a seat, I've got something to show you."

Y entered the room with mug in hand, and sat.

"This was delivered to the Ministry today," said X, sliding something across the table.

It was a simple handwritten note on a scrap of parchment:

_Today, you have mourned your losses and celebrated your victories. _

_Tomorrow, you will mourn your losses once more, but the victory will be ours._

"Eloquent," remarked Y.

I waved my wand at it, and tendrils of inky darkness bloomed from it. With another wave of my wand, a brilliant white light flushed the darkness away.

"I guess they're trying to make an impression," I said.

"Any luck in tracing it?" asked Y.

"No. Whoever wrote it wasn't an idiot," X answered.

"It doesn't matter," I said staunchly, "We'll find them."

"We always do."

* * *

><p>AN: Just to clarify, 'evacked' is slang for 'evacuated.'

Hope you enjoyed it, next chapter soon.


	15. Nostradamus

A/N: A new chapter - enjoy!

**XV: Nostradamus****  
><strong>

_May 3, 1998 (One Year Ago)_

_Ginny_

I watched as Harry arrived in the Entrance Hall, accompanied by two figures in red robes. His face and robes were covered in the dust and debris of battle, but a satisfied look crossed his face. I met him misstep and threw my arms around him.

"Ginny, I'm filthy."

"I don't care," I replied, my voice muffled against his shoulder.

He gave me another grin.

"When's food?" he asked, "I'm starving."

"It should be soon. Come, let's get seats."

I slipped my hand into his and we made our way into the Great Hall.

The vast Hall was a shadow of its former self. Piles of rubble dotted the room, where great chunks of stone had been blasted - and in some cases, blown clean through - off the walls. A makeshift triage was set up down the Slytherin end. The Hospital Wing was still full to overflowing, as St Mungos had only been retaken this morning.

The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables had been left in place, and students, teachers, and workers alike had begun to crowd the benches. As we walked down the row, Harry stopped often to greet people.

We squeezed in next to Neville, Seamus, and Lee Jordan.

"How was the Ministry, Harry?" Seamus asked.

"When I left, there were a couple of pockets of resistance on Level Seven, but it's pretty much ours. Once we took the MLE, it was basically over. We've got St Mungos too. I overheard them saying that some of the Hogwarts wounded will transfer there tonight."

The food arrived soon after, and we attacked it ravenously. Most of the resistance hadn't eaten a good meal in months.

* * *

><p>Later, we took our leave and made Harry and I made our way back to Harry's dorm room.<p>

I sat on his bed as he rummaged through his trunk.

"Was it really like what you told Seamus and the others?"

"Yeah. They surrounded me with Aurors the whole time. I fired a few Stunners and that was it," he said, sounding disappointed.

"Well, I'm glad they kept you safe. I worried about you. I wanted to strangle Kingsley when he asked you to accompany the Order."

"I was okay. They spent half the time taking pictures of me," he said, removing his shirt.

"I thought you were dead, Harry. I never want to experience that again," I said, my eyes on the angry red scar on his chest. "Is that where-"

"Yeah."

"Does it hurt?" I asked, brushing a finger against the vivd red gash.

"Not so much, anymore," he replied softly, his eyes staring at me with an intensity that made me blush.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and pressed a deep kiss to my lips.

"I've missed this," he said after several moments.

"Me too," I murmured in reply, before making a face.

"You need a shower, Chosen One."

He laughed, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"I'll get cleaned up."

He reached a hand out and wandlessly summoned a towel., before making his way towards the bathroom.

"Wait."

"Yeah?"

He turned as I unbuttoned my shirt, feeling the fabric slide off my shoulders as it feel to the floor.

"What're you doing?" he asked, staring at me with a mix of surprise and boyish delight.

"Joining you."

* * *

><p>Much later, we laid intertwined under the sheets of his four-poster bed.<p>

"I could get used to this," I murmured.

"Me too," he replied.

"Have you thought about what you'll do now?"

"I don't know, Ginny. I never really thought about life after Tom Riddle," he replied, then fixed me with his intense stare. "But I do know I want to spend it with you."

* * *

><p><em>May 4, 1998<em>

"Minister, the Head of the Department of Mysteries would appreciate a word," announced one of Kingsley's many undersecretaries.

"They talk?" Kingsley asked, recalling the meeting of the Department Heads he had attended yesterday. The man in charge of Mysteries had not uttered a single syllable.

"I understand that it's a matter of some importance."

"Show him in."

The man entered and took a seat in front of Kingsley's desk. He sported a close-cropped haircut, and his face was framed by a pair of black eyeglasses and a strong jawline. A thin scar ran down his neck and disappeared under his collar. His grey eyes carried a certainty in them, that he knew what he wanted and how to do it.

He carried no notes or parchment either, which surprised the new Minister. Nearly everyone meeting with him had brought something to support their case.

"Minister Shacklebolt," he opened.

It was part greeting, part statement. Kingsley suddenly felt like he was being inspected under a microscope. No platitudes or congratulations either.

This man was _definitely_ from the Department of Mysteries.

"Before you begin, let me ask you this: why should I trust you, or your Department? You corroborated with Thicknesse during the war," asked Kingsley critically.

"Regimes come and go, Minister. The Department of Mysteries is eternal. We do what it takes to ensure our survival," the Unspeakable replied.

"That doesn't inspire much in the way of confidence."

"Then perhaps this will. As you may be aware, Minister, one of the operational responsibilities of my Department is intelligence-gathering. Relevant information is then filtered through to International Trade, the Aurors, the MLE, etcetera."

"Through the Intelligence Division, we know everything worth knowing. It is an immensely powerful asset, one that Albus Dumbledore himself utilised on multiple occasions," he said, pausing.

"One of Scrimgeour's last acts was to order Department Intelligence out of London. We operated from Dublin, and then Morocco when Ireland became unsafe. In the last ten months, we were able to infiltrate and gather information on the Death Eaters."

"Minister, let me tell you this in short: this war is not over."

"You're telling me this after the Order of the Phoenix liberated the Ministry and apprehended scores of Voldemort's agents, not to mention those we took prisoner in Scotland…" said Kingsley. "It feels like it's over to me."

"One-third," answered the Unspeakable.

"What?"

"We estimate that you've taken one-third of Voldemort's forces, captured or killed."

"That can't be right," Kingsley said.

"Minister, if I had a shadow of doubt, I would not be here telling you this," he replied forcibly.

"Voldemort's forces were split into twelve rough divisions, based around major Muggle and Wizarding centres in Britain. Here in London, Manchester, Falmouth, and Hogsmeade, for example. They are comprised of marked and unmarked Death Eaters - those who have taken the black - Snatchers, henchmen, and all manner of dark creatures."

"After Voldemort learns that Harry has retaken Hogwarts, he orders his lieutenants, the leaders of the divisions, to assemble a force to attack the castle. But he doesn't take everyone, because why bother? It's just a castle, defended by a handful of teachers and children, and Potter is just a boy. So he takes with him his most faithful, his inner circle. He believes that his victory is at hand, and he wants them to witness his triumph over Harry Potter. Five divisions out of twelve join him at the Battle of Hogwarts."

"After realising that the boy is destroying his Horcruxes, Voldemort takes the Elder Wand. With it, he believes that he is too powerful for Harry to kill. But Voldemort underestimates Potter's endgame."

"How do you know about the Hallows?" asked Kingsley, surprised.

"As I said, Minister, we know _everything_."

"Potter is, of course, remarkably successful in deceiving Voldemort, and kills Voldemort with his own curse. I will admit, we were unsure as to Severus Snape's part in all of this, but we had a hunch."

"As I was saying: five divisions join Voldemort, and they are routed. As news of Voldemort's demise spreads throughout Wizarding Britain, you yourself lead what remains of the Order to liberate the Ministry, and regain control of the _WWN_ and the _Prophet_. Three more divisions fall."

"You're still missing four divisions, Minister. Not to mention his forces across Europe."

"These four divisions are led by some of Voldemort's best. The Dolohov family, Rookwood, Creedy - who made his way into Voldemort's circle after the Malfoy's fall from grace - there are more. And they are devout. Their followers are fanatical."

"Mr Potter's life is at stake here. Defeating Voldemort does not make him immortal. He has cheated Death so many times, but he cannot cheat Him again. In the last two days, we have intercepted or received sixteen threats against Potter's life, and the lives of his closest friends: Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Ginevra Weasley."

"What would you have me do?" asked Kingsley.

"Hunt them down."

"Like a wetworks operation?"

"Precisely. This wouldn't be a case of capturing them, Minister, it would be an _extermination_."

"A small, clandestine group based out of my Department could do it. For the first time in years, we are in a position of strength. They are on the run. But if they can regather, if they can regroup, then they will constitute a threat to be reckoned with."

"This sounds like a job for Aurors."

"Gawain Robards is a good man, but he cannot lead the Aurors to war. You know this as well as I do," he replied.

"You want Mysteries to front this then," Kingsley remarked.

"We are the best qualified, Minister. The Aurors are clumsy, whereas we are surgical.

"You're aware you are speaking to an Auror?"

"Yet your loyalty lies above the Auror Office, and it has ever since Dumbledore recruited you for the Order of the Phoenix. You know as well as I do the shortcomings of the Aurors. This needs to begin _now, _and we're the only ones who can."

"Say I entertain your idea. How long would it take to set everything up?"

"Three days."

"That's all?"

"As I said, we are well prepared."

Kingsley ran a hand over his scalp, deep in thought.

"There is another matter, Minister."

"Oh?" Kingsley looked up.

"The mission requires Harry Potter."

"_What?!" _he replied incredulously.

"He is powerful, Minister, and an asset to us. If Potter disappears off the face of the earth, and joins this mission in secret, it will keep him safe. He'll be out of the public spotlight."

"Not if he's actively hunting down Death Eaters!" Kingsley protested.

"But that's the beauty of it, Minister. Once they learn that Harry is hunting them - the one who defeated their supposedly unbeatable Dark Lord - it will demoralise them further. To them, Harry Potter means death."

"The boy could return to Hogwarts to complete his NEWTS, and then join the Aurors - that is, if his ambitions have not changed since he was sixteen. Otherwise he'll be paraded out by the Public Relations Office to talk about how well the Ministry is doing - shaking hands and smiling for photos. Both of those are a waste of his time and talent."

"If Harry wants to help rebuild our country, he should do it by eliminating those that threaten it most. You must convince him to join this operation."

"I haven't even agreed to let this happen yet."

"But you will."

Kingsley looked at the man sitting across from him with a resigned sigh.

"If the public found out-"

The man gave a snort of derision.

"They won't."

"What if they do?" he asked.

"It'll be bloody difficult to get reelected, won't it?" he quipped. "Minister, I can only urge you to do what is best for our nation. And I think you know what that is."

"I'll think about Harry. I won't promise anything."

The man nodded and stood.

"Thank you, Minister," he said, as he made to leave.

"Call me Kingsley."

The Unspeakable turned, with one hand on the door.

"Call me X."

* * *

><p><em>May 6, 1998<em>

"Good afternoon, Minister," X greeted, entering Kingsley's office with another man in tow.

"I'd like you to meet Y."

Y was closer to Kingsley's height, and had a mane of jet black hair. A series of runes and magical symbols were tattooed down his arms, bare to the shoulders.

Kingsley shook the man's proffered hand firmly.

"Do all of you have letters?"

"Just the dangerous ones," Y replied with a grin.

"That's reassuring," Kingsley replied dryly.

"Has X explained what I want you to do?"

"Yes."

"Will you train Harry Potter, should he join?"

"The Chosen One? Of course."

"Are you ready to go to war?"

"I never left."

"Will you die in his defence?"

"If he proves himself worthy."

"Welcome to Wrath of Merlin."

* * *

><p><em>May 7, 1998<em>

Harry Potter looked at Kingsley with weary eyes, filled with the enormity of what he'd just been told.

"It's not over," he murmured. "It's not over."

"I wish it was," Kingsley said softly.

"I died, Kingsley. And then…I just got my life back."

"You have sacrificed so much already, Harry. I fear I ask of you too much."

"No, I understand. I get why you want me for this."

"You'll do it then?"

He paused, then answered with assurance:

"Yes. I'll do it."

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

I pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek when he returned from his visit with the new Minister.

"What did Kingsley want?"

"Nothing much. He just had a few updates. They want to keep me in the loop with the rebuilding efforts."

I knew something was troubling him, but I didn't bother to press him for more information. He would tell me in his own time.

* * *

><p><em>May 9, 1998<em>

A witch wearing navy blue robes with a silver cuff made her way into Kingsley's office.

"Good morning, Minister. I'm from the Department of Mysteries."

"What's your name?"

"That's classified."

"What can I call you?"

"V."

V led Kingsley as they traversed the maze-like warren of corridors and tunnels that made up the Department of Mysteries.

They had been walking for about 10 minutes, and Kingsley was sure he was thoroughly lost, before they reached a polished black door.

The witch placed her hand on the door.

It glowed blue and opened.

Another door lay a few feet in front of her.

"Whatever you do, do not touch _that_ door," she warned Kingsley.

"What does it lead to?"

"Nothing. Absolute nothingness."

"So how-"

"Look up," she instructed.

The Minister did so, and suddenly felt himself pulled off the floor by an invisible force.

"It's a security measure," the witch explained as they rose through the ceiling.

They reemerged into a cavernous hall. The large room had a high ceiling that cast magical illumination on the space. In the middle of the room was a raised platform with several marble plinths. Glass shields surrounded the platform, and two shimmering wards surrounded the glass.

About twenty wizards and witches were working in the space, many wearing white lab robes.

"Welcome to the home of the Nostradamus Project."

"You named it after the Prophecy for the End of Days?"

"We think it's important to have a healthy perspective on what we're doing," the witch replied.

A short, stocky man with a long grey beard and steely eyes approached them.

"Minister, this is M. He's the lead warlock."

"Minister, it's good to meet you. Congratulations on your recent appointment."

Kingsley shook his hand, trying to recall the faintly familiar face in front of him.

"I've met you before, haven't I?"

The warlock sighed.

"I daresay you have, Minister. I am - well, I used to be - well-known. Everyone here is spelled by a charm that eradicates us from living memory."

"That seems extreme."

"I don't have to impress upon you the utmost secrecy of what you've asked us to do, Minister."

"After our work is done, we will reverse the spell," added V, "But every single witch and wizard in this room has taken the Unbreakable Vow. We cannot speak of this to outsiders through will or coercion."

"Good. Do you really think that this -" he gestured at the room, "- can be done?"

"I'm assembling some of the finest magical minds in the world. Many of them are still making their way here. Voldemort's fall certainly helped convince them. If we cannot do it, no one can," M said.

"When do you expect to get started?"

"Within the week. The Department is well-suited to experimentation. Setting things up is going smoothly."

"How long do you expect it to take?"

"For a working prototype? Six months, perhaps a year?"

"Do I want to know how much it's going to cost?"

"You really don't."

"That's reassuring."

"Money is of no concern, Minister. The Department holds several options through shell companies on the Gringotts First Exchange," V said with a smirk.

"Does this Department have _any_ financial oversight?"

"None whatsoever," replied V, her smirk growing larger.

* * *

><p><em>Harry, May 10, 1998<em>

I stood at the podium. Everyone was watching me as I paused, and took a breath.

My eyes met Ginny's in the crowd of faces, and I drank in the sight of her before tearing my eyes away.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Quick steps took me out of the Great Hall. I avoided eye contact and ignored the puzzled whispers as I made my way out. In the Entrance Hall, a man in blue robes wordlessly handed me my Invisibility Cloak and an old book. I wrapped it around myself, and watched the man disappear into the shadows as I strode out onto the grounds.

The book grew warm, and I felt the sudden lurch of a Portkey, as I left Hogwarts and all that I loved behind me.

* * *

><p>Kingsley led me down a hidden passageway to a lift. We entered and he pressed a red button three times.<p>

The lift jolted, and shot downwards, sideways, upwards, sideways, and downwards again, before slowing to a halt and opening its doors.

"This is Operation Headquarters. We have living space for you here."

He led me into an open-plan space. A conference table was placed at one end of the room, and a kitchenette occupied the other. Several doors were dotted around the room.

"Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Harry Potter," Kingsley said to the two men seated at the table.

The first man had short hair and grey eyes framed by black glasses. The second had should length black hair that reminded me of Sirius, and wore a leather vest that left his arms, tattooed from shoulder to hand with ancient runes, bare.

"Welcome to the Department of Ungentlemanly Warfare," said the second man with a wry grin.

"I'm X. The comedian here is Y," introduced the first man, extending a hand in greeting.

"Does everyone have a letter?" I asked, shaking X's hand.

"Everybody asks that," Y remarked dryly.

"I'll leave you with X and Y. They'll brief you in full, and then you'll get started. Your luggage has already been moved into one of the rooms," said Kingsley.

I nodded and turned to my new companions.

* * *

><p>"When do we begin?" I asked.<p>

"We don't start until _you're_ ready," Y looked at me intently.

"I'm ready now."

He gave a derisive snort.

"You're not even close. I understand that you cast a decent Patronus, and your Disarming Spell is a force to be reckoned with, but that's not going to keep you alive, Harry."

"Tell that to Tom Riddle."

X and Y shared a look.

"He's _your_ student," X said, with a hint of amusement.

Y gave an exasperated sigh.

"Fine. You and I are going to duel. I want to see what you can do."

Y lead me through to a large, open room with crescent-shaped markings on the floor. He walked his way to the far end, turned to face me, and took a duelling stance.

"You start."

I went for my wand. As my fingers curled around the holly, I was blasted across the room.

"I wasn't ready!" I exclaimed.

"Do you think Death Eaters are going to wait for you?" Y asked.

I had to admit that he had a point.

I shot a Stunner at him as I got to my feet, then watched in dismay as it dissipated off a shield he'd thrown up to counter it.

"Expelliarmus!" I yelled.

Y gave a violent flick of his wand and brushed the spell aside, before following up with a jet of white light that I only just managed to avoid.

I fired another Stunner, having about as much success with it as I had the first.

"Enough!"

Y summoned a torrent of blue lightning that tore its way across the room. It blew through my Shield Charm and floored me. I made to move my wand arm but found I couldn't.

In a mere matter of moments, Y had outclassed me utterly, and he'd made it look _easy_.

"Duel's over," Y said. He gave another flick of his wand, and then holstered it.

"We could've done with you in the Battle at Hogwarts," I remarked with a wince as I sat up.

"I was preoccupied," Y said guardedly.

He offered his hand and pulled me to my feet.

"You wanted to be an Auror when you were back at school?"

"Yeah."

"Then that's what we'll start with. First two weeks, I'll teach you everything an Auror trainee would learn in their first year, without the bullshit."

"You'll learn to Disillusion yourself wandlessly, levitate yourself for a sustained duration, and cast every curse, charm and ward in the book. After that, I'll teach you the ones that you don't find in the books."

"We'll fine-tune your duelling, then I'll get you fighting multiple opponents at once."

"Once you can hold your own against _me_ in a duel, that's when you'll be ready."

* * *

><p><em>June 29, 1998<em>

Y followed a witch who had introduced herself as 'V' - from one of the research divisions - to a red door. As expected, a sudden jolt came and they rose through the ceiling into a large open space.

"These are the Nostradamus Lights."

"What's so special about these?" he asked, gesturing towards the orbs on their marble plinths.

"Each Light is designed to be able to eradicate magical energy totally."

"You're fucking with me."

V shot him a smirk.

"Not at all. You're a soldier. I thought you'd appreciate the ultimate weapon."

"Well, sure, but it's not very sporting, is it?"

Kingsley made his way over from where he was in discussions with M.

"What do you think?" he asked, striding towards the pair of Unspeakables.

"That's one hell of a toy you've got, Kingsley," remarked Y, his eyes still on the glowing orbs in the centre of the room.

* * *

><p><em>Harry, July 18<em>

"This rune means 'death'. Each Unspeakable receives it after their first operational kill."

I looked at the tattoo burned onto my shoulder and recalled a conversation I had shared with Ginny about Romilda Vane and a Hungarian Horntail.

It seemed like an age ago.

Today, I had killed a man. In the midst of a firefight, he had drawn a clear shot at Y, and I had reacted without thinking to protect my teacher and partner.

The Killing Curse had burst from my wand in a lightning fast jet of green light, and hit the Death Eater squarely in the chest. He had crumpled almost instantly.

"Good work," Y had said in thanks.

'Work' meant murder. The realisation had jarred me.

It had all been too easy.

* * *

><p><em>August 1<em>

Arthur Weasley sat in Kingsley's office, only slightly larger and more ostentatious than his own. He pulled at the white cuff of his robes. He'd only been sworn in two hours ago and already he felt exhausted.

If only Lucius Malfoy could see him now.

He was broken from his reverie by Kingsley's voice.

"This is V, she's from the Department of Mysteries," Kingsley introduced.

"Nice to meet you, Deputy Minister," the woman greeted him, shaking his hand.

"Likewise."

"V liaises with our Office. She's taking us to the Department of Mysteries. They guard several secrets that you are now privy to," Kingsley said.

Arthur followed the Kingsley and V as they made their way down to Level Nine. After about ten minutes of walking through a series of maze-like hallways, they reached the end of a corridor.

"Look up," V instructed.

Arthur gave a start as he rose through the seemingly solid ceiling.

"This is the Nostradamus Project," declared V.

"Arthur, I am truly sorry to burden you with this. But you must know," said Kingsley.

Arthur looked around the room. Several witches and wizards were working in the large space, focusing much of their attention on seven orbs. Each gave a red glow.

"What's the red light?"

"The Nostradamus Light is designed to be the magic against magic itself. It rips the magical energy from a wizards body, rendering them effectively a Squib," V explained.

Arthur shot Kingsley a horrified look.

"I tasked the Department of Mysteries with creating seven Lights. It was initially Scrimgeour's idea. Dumbledore believed that Harry would stop Voldemort, but Scrimgeour didn't want to place his faith in a boy - especially one who wasn't particularly cooperative," Kingsley explained.

"The Ministry fell before the project could get underway. Scrimgeour's dream of a weapon to stop dark magic was never realised."

"So what is it doing here?"

"Arthur, imagine if we'd had one of these at Hogwarts. I hate to be callous but your son would still be alive."

Arthur gave him a broken look.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, I truly am. And I know this goes against everything you believe in. But we still live in dangerous times."

Arthur was silent for a moment. Then he sighed.

"You're right. I hate the very idea of it, Kingsley, but we can't wilfully ignore the danger to our world. If this is the price we pay, then so we must."

"It's not all we have. Follow me."

A few minutes through the corridors of the Department of Mysteries later, they came to a halt at a nondescript door with no label, a rarity in the Ministry. Kingsley placed his hand on the door and after a moment, it swung open. Arthur followed him through the door, and came face to face with Harry Potter.

"Harry!"

"Hi Mr Weasley," he replied. There was a new strength about him, a shining resolve in his brilliant green eyes.

"Arthur, as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, you are aware of the considerable threat presented by Voldemort's remaining forces," said Kingsley. "This is the answer to that threat. This is Operation Wrath of Merlin."

* * *

><p>AN: I decided to offer some more detail on the origins of the Operation and ended up writing enough for an entire chapter. The 'weapon' has also - finally - been revealed as the Nostradamus Light. I wrote this chapter and the next two in tandem, so you should see those uploaded in the coming couple of weeks.

As always, please review. I welcome thoughtful comments, critiques, and questions.


	16. The Weeping Man

A Happy New Year to all of my readers - both those new to _Wrath of Merlin_ and those who have followed it from the beginning, nearly three years ago. The next two or three chapters should be up soon too - I've got a bit of spare time to work on my writing. As always, enjoy.  
><strong><br>**

* * *

><p><strong>XVI. The Weeping Man<strong>

_Ginny_

"Okay Ginny, I'm going to need you to pose - just like so…excellent!"

_Flash._

"And another…"

_Flash._

"One more sweetheart…"

_Flash._

"Lovely!"

"All done?"

"Yeah, perfect."

"Thank Merlin," I muttered.

The photoshoot had _not _been my idea. But it came with the territory of professional Quidditch.

* * *

><p>A man in a black overcoat stalked along a tree line under the cover of darkness. His associates called him Raven on account of his hook nose and beady black eyes that glinted in the moonlight.<p>

Leaving the cover of the trees, he approached a tall chainlink fence, easily 10 feet high, and topped with razor wire. A yellow plastic sign stated 'AUTHORISED MILITARY PERSONNEL ONLY' for the benefit of Muggles. All they could see was a shallow quarry. But people of magic saw a bleak, imposing fortress, with high grey walls.

_Barden's Keep._

Raven hated this place. He'd served two terms here, before a mass breakout in the Second War that set him free.

Now he was returning.

At least it wasn't Azkaban.

Raven pulled a potion-filled vial, one of several he carried, from his robes and downed it. Moments later, he walked _through _the razor wire fence and onto the grounds of the Keep.

He held his breath as he approached the portcullis gate and walked through them. The spell that had been placed on him was definitely working, but it was unnerving to walk through walls and past MLE guards as if he wasn't even there.

Raven made his way to the lower levels, where high risk prisoners were kept, passing more oblivious guards on his way. Eventually, he reached his destination.

Cell 33.

Raven drew his wand and murmured the charm he'd carefully memorised as he tapped his wand on the stalwart iron door in front of him.

It opened with a soft _click _and swung open. A tall, pock-marked man with greasy hair sat cross-legged in the centre of the cell. He looked up at the man with intent eyes and spread his hands in greeting.

"Welcome to my home away from home."

Raven nodded curtly.

"Surprised you didn't wanna get out sooner."

Prisoner 33 only offered a sardonic smirk.

"Dolohov sends 'is regards, by the way."

"Good. Did you bring the potions?" asked Prisoner 33.

"Yep, all of 'em."

Raven unzipped a small case and pulled out five vials.

"Give me the first one."

The prisoner took the proffered vial, filled with a red liquid, and drank it in a single swallow.

"Good. You take the second."

"Me?"

"Just do it."

"What is it?"

"Do you want to get _back_ out of here? Drink it."

Raven did, downing the the second vial, also filled with red liquid.

"Give me the third and the fourth. You take the last one."

Raven handed him the next two vials, and then drank the last one with a grimace.

"Fuck, that's disgusting, that is!"

"You'll live," admonished the prisoner. "It's only Polyjuice."

"Polyjuice?"

33 swallowed the third vial.

"Yes. You're going to look like me."

"How does that help us get out?"

"It helps me."

"Wha-"

Raven's last words were cut off as his throat closed

He collapsed to the floor, legs kicking wildly as he choked to death as his features changed to those of the prisoner's.

The prisoner stripped Raven's body of his clothing, taking the black overcoat and his wand. He then set the body aflame with a whispered _Incdendio._

Prisoner 33 stepped out of his cell, and closed the thick iron door behind him.

Finally, he uncorked and drank the last potion.

"Ghastly," he remarked to no one in particular, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

Suddenly, his body began to contort violently.

A few moments later, a black tarantula emerged from the darkness and scuttled down the hallway.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

I had just taken the first bite of my toast when the Owl Post arrived. A large tawny dropped a cylindrical package into my lap.

I ripped the wrapping off the package and unfurled the magazine. There I was, front cover.

_GINNY WEASLEY: How Holyhead landed the five-star recruit_

I opened the magazine to the inside article.

_Ginny Weasley cuts a small but striking figure in her Hogwarts uniform, complete with a shining Quidditch Captain badge pinned to her robes. Impressive in her final victory over Slytherin (which set a School record) as both Chaser and Captain, she received offers from four different League sides looking for new Chasers. Already a well-known figure for her involvement in the Battle of Hogwarts, I sat down with Ginny to talk what we know best: Quidditch._

"_Why did you choose the Harpies?"_

"_The team culture is fantastic. They're competitive for the League Cup, and play my style of Chasing."_

I skimmed through the rest of the interview, and set it down to finish my breakfast.

"Can I get your autograph?" Hermione asked, teasing, as she looked over from her _Prophet._

I gave her a scowl before taking a voracious bite of my toast.

"Any plans for today? Going into Hogsmeade?" she asked.

I paused mid-chew and swallowed.

"Nothing I need."

"Honeydukes?"

"I'm meant to be getting into shape. Gwenog Jones makes her players run ten miles four times a week."

Hermione made a face.

"Better you than me."

* * *

><p>33 shuddered as he felt his body finish its contortions. His experience as a tarantula had not been pleasant.<p>

He flexed his fingers and toes, and blinked rapidly, as if to assure himself he only had two eyes instead of eight. He adjusted the black overcoat he had taken from Raven across his shoulders.

A man, also garbed in black, handed him a wand.

"Creedy," 33 greeted by way of thanks.

"I trust your escape went well?" replied his fellow Death Eater, a lanky man with pinprick eyes and sandy hair.

"It did. Your man was wonderfully dispensable."

"We've made the preparations you requested," Creedy replied.

"Let me see it."

Prisoner 33 was led down two flights of stairs and into a subterranean chamber. In the middle of the chamber stood a marble plinth upon which rested an orb. It glowed an angry red.

"It works?"

"Allow us to demonstrate."

Three men made their way into the room, flanking a Dementor bound in an inky darkness that was as black as the creature itself.

"Since their discovery, it's been believed that Dementors cannot be killed, only subdued with the use of a Patronus," intoned Creedy, "Now we know otherwise."

He pointed his wand at the orb.

"_Dominae Nostrae."_

A jet of red light erupted from the orb and engulfed the Dementor as the three men binding it leapt away. The light tore away at the Dementor as it gave off an earsplitting shriek of pain. It reached out a skeletal hand that began to dissolve as the red magic eroded the Dementor out of existence.

Prisoner 33 stared intently at the scene.

"A Dementor is a creature of magic. Without magic, they simply cease to exist," said Creedy.

"The magic against magic. Remarkable."

"In the Department of Mysteries, they call it a Nostradamus Light."

"Fitting. I assume the orb is the payload?"

"Yes. It can be launched in a manner similar to a Muggle bomb. Or the energy can be unleashed through an incantation, as you saw."

"Excellent," replied 33.

"What do you intend to do with it?" Creedy asked.

"Anyone who possesses one of these can change the magical world. I want to watch it burn."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"Suit up, Potter," X said, striding into my room.

"Where are we going?"

"Rhayader. It's in Wales, north of the Beacons."

"When?"

"Ten minutes ago. Intel detected Death Eater activity in the area."

Y joined us.

"We think it might be Julius Creedy," he informed.

"And if we find him, he's _mine_," X said in a tone that did not welcome argument.

I pulled on my greatcloak, not bothering to question X's grudge against the dangerous and sadistic Death Eater.

We made our way, as we had countless times, to the surface of London. We linked arms as X counted down.

"Three, two, one."

With a _crack_, we vanished, and reappeared on the outskirts of the Welsh town.

"The farmstead is a few minutes southeast," said X, getting our bearings. "We'll walk."

Shortly, we arrived outside a motley collection of scattered buildings. They seemed completely deserted.

"Anything?" X asked Y, who was scanning the area with wand in hand.

"I don't know. Something is trying to hide here. But…wait. Three people, in that building there."

The door to the building opened without opposition. Everything inside was covered in thick dust. Cobwebs ran from floor to ceiling.

We rounded a corner with wands out, and came across three figures, frozen in place at a rickety table.

"They're dead," Y remarked.

The three men had forced grotesque smiles, reminding me of the clown horror films Dudley had watched when he was younger. Their eyes, wide open, stared blankly at us. It was if they'd been petrified.

One of the dead men held a scrap of parchment in his upraised hand.

Y reached out and took it.

He unfolded it, a frown crossing his features.

"_Looking for something?" _he read.

A ringing noise sounded suddenly in my ears. I saw Y's face go white.

"GET OUT! NOW!" he yelled.

But we were too late.

The ringing noise intensified as the three frozen men exploded in a colossal burst of dark magical energy.

* * *

><p>Creedy walked into the room where Prisoner 33 sat eating.<p>

"I bring good news. The wards at Azkaban have been opened. The fortress is ours for the next twelve hours."

33 nodded.

"We have word from Wales, also. The trap has been sprung at Rhayader."

"Excellent."

"Do not mistake this for doubt, but do you really think this will work?" Creedy questioned. "The rumours of Potter's power alone…"

"Are duly noted. But even Potter is no match for what I have planned for him. The spider's web is closing around his little Operation."

33 bit into a grape, chewing it slowly before spitting out the seeds.

"And once he is trapped, he will find it impossible to escape."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I came to.

As my vision stopped blurring, I found I could see the sky. The explosion had torn the building to shreds. We lay amongst only rubble.

My head was spinning, three of my teeth were missing, and blood ran from a cut on my neck, and a slash in my chest. The bones in my left arm were shattered, several ribs were cracked, and I was bruised head to toe.

I crawled over to X, then heard a moan from nearby. It was Y.

Aching, I made my way to him and reached out.

"Wait!" Y cautioned.

I paused.

"You can't touch me. If you do, you might get trapped too."

"What do you mean?"

"We got hit by a tomb curse, Harry. I think I bore the brunt of it, but you two might've been hit, too."

The skin on his hands and arms was starting to blacken in a manner similar to Dumbledore's own Horcrux-damaged hand.

"Is X alive?" Y asked.

"Yeah, I can see him breathing," I answered shakily.

"Good," he replied.

"There's an Anti-Apparition shield too. We can't get far enough on foot."

"We can't. But you can."

"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled.

Y tried to stand, and stumbled, falling back down.

"Fuck…"

"I can give you enough strength to break through the ward. You can side-along X out of here. Save him. Save yourself. Get far enough away so that they can't follow you."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Yes you are."

"I won't!" I exclaimed.

"Harry, go!"

"We leave no man behind!" I said, frustration in my voice.

"You won't be leaving a man behind. I think what little humanity I had I lost a long time ago."

He drew a ragged breath.

"Get out of here…take X…they'll be coming…"

"We can fight them!"

"We can't. This curse amplifies their strength and saps ours the longer we stay. We won't stand a chance."

"Fuck that! I don't leave anyone. I've lost too many people already."

"Harry, when this began, Kingsley made X and I take the Unbreakable Vow. We promised to protect you at all costs."

"You didn't…"

"You are more important than either of us, Harry. You represent a new hope for this world."

I didn't reply.

"You must go. You can't take me with you."

"You must go."

Y drew a complicated diagram with his wand, and I could feel the magic crackle through the air, creating a temporary gate in the ward.

"Now go. I'll hold them off. You'll have time to escape."

My broken arm hanging limply by my side, I grabbed X's wrist and dragged him across the floor.

"It's been an honour, Harry," said Y, raising a hand to his forehead in salute.

"The honour was mine," I replied, my voice thick.

Somehow, I managed to Apparate, dragging X alongside me.

The last thing I saw was Y get to his feet.

* * *

><p><em>Y.<em>

I struggled to rise, my body aching from the curse that was tearing fire through my veins. I wobbled on two feet, then steadied myself. I felt light-headed. I hawked, and spat blood.

Harry was safe. That was what mattered.

Any moment now, they would arrive.

Suddenly, there came a black flash. About a dozen figures came from the shadows, walking calmly towards me.

I took down the first with a Killing Curse.

"Expelliarmus!"

My wand was torn from my grip, and then a blue curse hit my wand arm, gouging a deep cut. Blood spluttered from the new wound. I gasped in pain. I would not give them the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

A Death Eater addressed me.

"You're quick, I'll give you that. But you've no chance now."

He grinned maliciously.

"You've caused us a lot of problems. You're going to die a very slow death."

I spat blood in his face.

The Death Eater wiped his face with his sleeve, then jabbed his wand into my gut, and yelled.

"Crucio!"

New pain tore through me, and I collapsed. I felt something rupture inside my stomach. Probably my stomach.

Several others joined in.

"Crucio!"

"Crucio!"

"_Crucio!"_

Spasms shook my body. I no longer had control over my body. I could feel the warm trickle of urine run down my leg. Bile rose in my throat.

After what seemed an age, it stopped.

"Is he dead?"

"Yeah, pity….wait. No. The fuck is still alive!"

"Crucio!"

_Rise._

I couldn't.

_Rise._

The pain was too much to bear.

A Death Eater let off a spell with a sound of a pistol whip, and a hole burst through my chest.

_Rise._

I got to my knees.

Black spots appeared in front of my eyes, and I dropped again.

_Rise._

I pushed myself off the ground. A Death Eater flicked his wand at me, and my legs turned to jelly. I fell.

"Why fucking bother?"

"If I'm going to die, I'll die standing," I said, my voice hoarse.

I took shallow breaths as I regained the feeling in my legs.

_Rise._

Another Death Eater put his wand to my face.

"Crucio!"

I gasped, ignoring the stabbing agony from my chest. I could smell the wand burning through my cheek. I grabbed his wrist.

The flesh on my cheek was melting.

_Rise._

I stood.

They had me surrounded in a circle. now One of the black-robed figures behind me struck me with a stunning blow to the back of the head.

I had lost count of the number of times I had fallen.

I dimly felt a figure crouch beside me, and stick a wand in my ear.

"Fuck," I whispered.

Then I screamed.

My legs kicked out wildly.

Impossible pressure built in my skull.

Fire burst through my brain.

My left eye burst from its socket.

And then everything went dark for what I thought was the last time.

* * *

><p>The lightning shocked me back to life.<p>

I could hear voices.

"I think his heart gave out."

"Why'd you curse him like that? We weren't finished."

"Any luck?"

"No…fuck!"

"Not surprised."

A faint groan escaped my lips.

"I don't fucking believe it. He's still alive!"

_Rise._

With each breath, blood filled my remaining lung. More blood was running down my face, weeping from my broken eye.

They watched with disdain as I tried to get to my feet.

"'e doesn't fucking quit, does 'e?"

_Never give up. Never surrender._

I got to my feet, head bowed, vision still blurry, drawing short, sharp breaths. Blood was gushing from the hole in my chest. I knew my injuries were mortal.

"Why don't you just die?"

"Crucio!"

The curse hit me with a dull thud. Icy needles of indescribable agony pierced through me.

I stumbled.

But this time, I did not fall.

The Death Eater who had disarmed me grabbed me a swung a stunning right hook - magically enhanced - into my jaw. My head whipped around as my jaw cracked. Four, five, six, _eight_ teeth dropped out of my mouth.

But I did not fall.

I raised a hand and reached out at him. A red spell slammed into it, shattering the bones inside halfway up my forearm. It dropped, useless.

Jeering, he snapped my wand in half in front of me.

"What the fuck are you going to do? You don't have a wand."

I forced my face into a sadistic smirk.

"I don't need a fucking wand."

I outstretched my arms, my hand dangling uselessly, and time stood still.

There is a spell that is not taught at Hogwarts. It is not referenced in any of the texts in the Restricted Section. It is not taught, nor mentioned, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Perhaps twenty wizards alive today even know its name.

But it is studied in the Department of Mysteries.

As the strength faded from my ceasing body, I raised my head up into the sky.

I could see the stars, their light calling to me.

They were beautiful.

Broken memories flitted through my consciousness. I could see faces - faces of people I'd saved, women I'd known, and the very few who knew my real name.

They were beautiful.

A tear stood in my one remaining eye. I felt it trickle down my face.

And then I ignited my soul.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I came to land on a hillside that we'd passed on the way, and crumpled into the grass. X lay beside me. I checked his pulse and was relieved to find it was steady.

"Fuck…" I exclaimed, breathing deeply. I lay in the grass for about ten minutes. Guilt churned inside me. Y was in all likelihood dead by now.

I fished for a small canister attached to my belt. Twisting the lid off, I downed the liquid inside. The potion hit me like a shot of pure adrenalin, and I got to my feet. My body ached, but my strength was returning. I had enough to make it back to the Department of Mysteries. A groan came from the ground. X had regained consciousness. I grabbed another canister, and gave it to him. He took it, and drank gratefully.

"What happened? Where's Y?"

"He's gone…he told me to get out and take you."

"He's still there?"

"I think he's -"

Suddenly, a brilliant, blinding light shot across the horizon, and for a few brief moments, it was bright as day.

And as the light dimmed again, and the world faded away to black, I knew that Y was no more.

"Merlin…"

X's expression betrayed his shock.

"What?"

"I … extraordinary…"

I had never heard X struggle for words. I let him compose himself.

"Harry, what you saw there you'll only see once in ten lifetimes."

"What was it?"

"The best I can describe it is as a human bomb. Y gave his life force into that spell…I didn't think he was capable of it," he answered. His voice was incredulous.

Then, he winced in pain.

"We should go," I said.

He nodded, and grabbed my arm.

_Crack._

Something was wrong.

"We're still here," X said.

"I can't break through," I replied, testing the ward.

"Look, in the sky - that red light, it's coming towards us!

He saw it too, and his eyes suddenly widened with an emotion I hadn't seen in them before:

Fear.

"It can't be -"

These were the last words I heard him say.

The red light exploded in the sky above us, and unleashed a livid maelstrom of magical energy with an unholy shriek.

My physical injuries were forgotten as the magic tore through my soul and my mind, leeching what remained of my power from my body.

I fell to my knees as the red light engulfed me.

* * *

><p>Stuart Waits had lived in Rhayader his most of his life, and upon graduating Hogwarts had taken up a job with the local MLE office in his hometown. Rhayader had a small and well-behaved wizarding community, and little bothered him. But tonight, something had the town abuzz.<p>

"Ever seen this before, Stu?" Tom, a younger officer asked.

"Never seen anything like it," Stuart replied.

A bright white light shone across the night sky, illuminating it like day. It had flashed up across the horizon only a few moments ago, and for some unknown reason, it made Stuart feel uneasy.

A rustling noise from the fireplace made them turn, and a woman's head popped out from the coals.

"Meredith, how're you?" Stuart greeted.

"Alright Stu. You lot can see the light I assume?"

"Course. I make it that you can see it?"

"Bright as day here in the Beacons. The lads up in Holyhead are catching it too."

A sudden crack echoed through the sky, like thunder, and then the light disappeared.

"Well, that's all well and good then."

"Wait, what's that?" interrupted Tom, squinting at a red speck in the sky. "A comet?"

"Maybe. Fetch the telescope, lad."

"No need, it's getting bigger."

There was a sudden flash that left sunspots dancing in front of his eyes, and when his vision cleared, a new light was tearing through the darkness.

"Merlin's beard!" Tom exclaimed.

"Spoke too soon, Stu," Meredith remarked from the fireplace.

"Meredith, let the Ministry of Magic know that a red light can be seen in the Brecon Beacons and as far north as Holyhead. I'd imagine the Muggleworthy Excuses people will want to cover it up. Freak solar event or something."

"What do you reckon it is?" Tom asked, eye agape at the new, angry red light.

"I don't know, lad. But I don't like the look of it. It's a sinister magic, that's for sure."

* * *

><p>A knock came on Kingsley's door.<p>

The Minister frowned. He hadn't been expecting anyone.

"Enter."

A wizard in blue robes walked in, and took a seat.

"Can I speak freely?"

"The room is warded."

"Good. Minister, we haven't had contact from Wrath of Merlin in over six hours."

"They've gone longer than that before," Kingsley replied.

"But they've always informed us that they were going into deep cover. This is different. There was no such confirmation."

"You've tried communicating through all the channels?"

"Yes, and the Muggle ones too."

"Monitor the situation. They might just be preoccupied."

"Minister, I have known X for a number of years. His methodology and tactics are often a source of controversy, even by the standards of the Department of Mysteries, but with respect to operational procedure, he is the very definition of _textbook_. They are not preoccupied, Minister. They are in trouble."

Kingsley nodded, his face set.

"It is my recommendation that we undertake an extraction mission."

"Do you need the Aurors?"

"No. We'll manage this ourselves. For now."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

Everything was dark when I came to. A black bag had been placed over my head.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice hoarse. I ached from the residual pain of the Cruciatus Curse.

"You'll find out soon enough," the voice replied. It was a voice I had heard before, but I couldn't remember where.

I tugged against the bonds holding my hands behind my back.

"Escape is impossible. Don't bother," said the voice.

"Why not just kill me?" I said.

"Death is not enough. You deserve something worse. And your history with the Killing Curse - I'd rather not take the risk."

The black bag was ripped off my head and as my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I knew where I was.

"No…" I whispered, my eyes wide.


	17. The Shadow War Part I: King Fall

Here's the latest chapter - major revelations abound.****

**XVII. The Shadow War Part ****One****: King Fall**

_Harry_

I was in the cavern deep underground Azkaban.

I was in the Pit.

I looked up, ignoring the ache in my neck and my broken arm. My vision was still fuzzy. I squinted, and a figure came into view.

Augustus Rookwood.

The tall, pock-marked man swept back his greasy hair as he studied me, a shrewd look on his features. He was wearing a black overcoat. I could see the orange of a Barden's Keep prison uniform beneath it.

"How'd you escape the Keep?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"I still have some friends. Their knowledge of wards is quite extensive, as your man - _Y_, was it? - found out to his cost."

I smirked.

"Didn't stop him from taking the bastards with him, did it?"

A flicker of annoyance crossed Rookwood's face.

"It doesn't matter. I still have plenty of loyal soldiers," he replied with a gesture.

"Meet the London Group. I understand you've been quite anxious to make our acquaintance."

Thirty, forty - I couldn't be sure - figures stood around the cavern, watching us intently.

"And who will oppose me? Wrath of Merlin is done, Harry."

_He knew._

"How do you know about Merlin?" I said, trying not to betray my shock. There was no point feigning ignorance.

"There are whispers, Potter, if you know where to look. You think you can hunt us like dogs, kill a household full of Death Eaters and no one will notice? The people are blissfully ignorant, oblivious wretches…but we are not so wilfully blind! We know about Kingsley's little Operation. And we know about your excursions in Paris. The Parisian has a lot of men. Not all of them are as loyal as he'd like them to be."

"How do you think his daughter was kidnapped? How do you think those pictures of you were taken? My men watched your little Operation, Harry. We watched, and we waited whilst I bided my time in the Keep."

"I have to admire them, really. My former colleagues in Mysteries took a piece of blunt steel and forged you into a remarkable weapon…truly the Dark Lord's equal. But there are a vast number of us, Harry. And although your body count is very impressive, we survive still."

"What are you planning?"

"I'm going to finish what the Dark Lord started. Tonight, we begin the shadow war."

"Why tell me?"

"I'm telling you this because I want you to know that all you've done will ultimately be for nothing."

If he wanted a war, then he'd get one.

I focused inwardly on my magical energy, preparing to strike.

It wasn't there. Where once had resided surging, indescribably exhilarating energy, I felt only a devoid emptiness.

I tried again.

Again, nothing.

I couldn't cast magic.

The realisation chilled me to the very core, and my face betrayed my shock.

"It won't work, Potter," Rockwood replied with a wide grin.

"What? How-" I exclaimed, my mind reeling.

Rookwood snapped his fingers and one of his Death Eaters handed him a spherical object.

"Do you know what this is, Potter?"

He held an orb out in the pale light. It was similar to a Quaffle in size, and had a muted red glow.

I frowned. I had no idea.

"You don't?" Rookwood exclaimed with a smirk upon seeing my confusion.

He gave a short, barking laugh.

"Potter, I'd like to introduce you to another one of Shacklebolt's little secrets. This is the Nostradamus Light."

A chill ran through me. I recognised that red light. This was what had caused the second explosion of magic that had torn through X and myself.

"See, Shacklebolt feared you, Potter. He feared your power, what you had become. He feared you would succumb to the darkness. And so he took out something of an insurance policy against you, just in case your expedition soured."

"Did he tell you, Potter, that this would be your fate? Used as a weapon, only to be discarded of and disposed by something even more powerful than yourself once you had fulfilled your purpose?"

"You're lying," I spat.

"No, Harry. I'm giving you the truth. I'm telling you what Shacklebolt wouldn't."

"This is a weapon to _end magic!_ Who else could possibly create something like this? You know what the Department of Mysteries is capable of - just as I do. You must believe me, Harry. Just as Dumbledore planned for you to die, so did Shacklebolt."

Rookwood set the orb down with a rueful expression.

"Your part in this, at long last, is over."

"You will languish in the Pit for the rest of your days as we pick off the Order of the Phoenix and your pathetic little Army. We will be patient. It does not matter how long it takes. One by one, every person who fought us at Hogwarts, every person responsible for our defeat will die. "

He reached inside his robes and pulled out a Quidditch magazine. It was the one with Ginny on it.

"I might even pay Ginny Weasley a visit personally."

"Not her…" I whispered hoarsely.

"I killed her brother, and _eventually_, I'll be done with her too," he said, a cruel smile crossing his gaunt face.

"And when there is no one left to oppose us, I will take the Ministry. Fear will reign."

"People will rise up against you. You can't take their freedom."

"No, Potter, they won't. I will destroy their trust in the Ministry. I will destroy their hope in you. They will flock to me, fight for me. And for those that still oppose me, I will destroy their faith in their own safety."

"But you will not live to see that happen. You will spend the rest of your life in this hell."

"The MLE Stuns prisoners before putting them in here in an attempt to make what they do appear humane. We will offer you no such mercy. The cage will protect you from their Kiss. The misery that the Dementors will inflict on you, from that there is no such protection."

"It is said that most conscious wizards lasted a couple of days down here before they began to go mad. The record, I believe, stands at something like a week. I wonder, Harry Potter, how long you will last?"

I was unceremoniously shoved into the golden cage by two burly henchmen. I sunk to the floor as the door closed with a ringing finality.

I saw Rookwood's smirking face as he peered at me through the bars.

"Oh, I almost forgot."

He reached into his robes a second time and drew out my wand. He waved it in front of my face, mocking me, before taking it in both hands and snapping it.

"You won't be needing it anyway."

He threw the pieces over the edge.

I glared at him, refusing to look away. He seemed only amused.

"What will break you, Harry Potter? Will it be the Dementors? Or the knowledge that you will die here, a raving lunatic, having failed to save those you love the most?"

"Because rest assured, Harry, I will come back one day. I will raise you from the Pit myself. And when I do, you will know - despite your inevitable insanity - that all your loved ones are dead, and that this world is mine."

"And then, only then, will I permit you to die."

There was a sudden jolt, and then the cage began to inch downwards.

Tendrils of soft golden light appeared, circling around me before making contact with my chest. I felt a jolt in the pit of my stomach.

Y had said the cage would magically sustain whoever was held captive inside it. This was how.

The dim light receded as the cage travelled downwards.

I did not look down. I knew what was waiting.

And then the light was a mere speck.

I could feel the eerie chill of the Dementors as they rose to meet my descending cage.

Here, they were not afraid.

The light disappeared, and the golden cage grew dim.

The Dementors swarmed around the cage, a symphony of rattling breaths, their wretched presence surrounding me with total desolation as the light and joy disappeared from my life altogether.

I could hear my mother's screams, as she begged Tom Riddle to spare me.

And then, once more, my world went black.

* * *

><p>Rookwood watched with a certain satisfaction as the thick golden chain descended below the swirling, howling darkness of the Pit.<p>

Potter was no more.

He turned and spoke to Creedy.

"Prepare our departure for London. It is time we let the cat out of the proverbial bag."

—

"_And that's it for this afternoon. Madam Moxie will return to answer all your relationship questions next Sunday. Up-to-the-minute news will follow the commercial break."_

"…and we're out!"

Madam Moxie reclined back in her chair as an aide rushed to fetch her a glass of wine. Her producer gave her a thumbs up from behind the glass partition that surrounded her booth.

"When am I getting a primetime slot, Harvey?"

"Moxie, you know the demographics aren't looking so good for those times right now, but in a couple of months-"

"Then what the fuck do I pay you for, Harvey?"

"Moxie, I-"

Harvey never finished his sentence. Madam Moxie watched in stunned disbelief as a fist-sized hole punched clean through his chest. Her scream didn't come until he'd toppled off his chair, with a fountain of blood splattering over the glass booth.

Black robed figures in hoods were suddenly everywhere, indiscriminately casting jets of green light as a chorus of rumbles and screams burst forth.

The man who had killed Harvey made her way to her as she cowered on the floor.

"You're the woman who gives love advice, aren't you? I've got a problem. I can't seem to hold a girlfriend, see? They keep dying on me."

Moxie gaped, too terrified to form words.

The Death Eater frowned.

"You don't know? Well, maybe if I show you. See, they usually die like this!"

Later, a Hitwitch would find Moxie's body, sans a severed head.

Rookwood surveyed the carnage as his Death Eaters tore through the defenceless WWN broadcasters.

"Creedy, make sure some of them stay alive. We need hostages."

"Of course."

Within a couple of minutes, the Death Eaters had corralled a small group of WWN employees into a control room. Rookwood scanned the group of hostages, before singling out a woman.

"Crucio!"

He gave only a hint of a smirk as she writhed in pain on the floor, her cries eerily soundless.

"Now that I have the pleasure of your undivided attention, I need someone to switch to the emergency broadcast frequency."

"But that'll open a line to every wireless in Britain! Only the Ministry can authorise a switch," exclaimed one of the executives.

Rookwood pointed his wand at the man and he died in a flash of green light.

"I am in no mood for trivial technicalities," he said with a hint of frustration. "The frequency. _Now_."

Another hostage, her hands shaking, stood and tapped her wand against several dials in the control room.

"It's…it's r-ready," she stammered.

Rookwood took the microphone and began to speak.

* * *

><p>The wireless in Kingsley's office let out a high pitched beep.<p>

"That's the emergency frequency," a secretary remarked.

"We never authorised a broadcast," another added, concern in her voice.

"_Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Today, we're taking a break from your regularly scheduled monotony to deliver a public message."_

"_But before that message, I have a warning for the MLE: before you send the Aurors in, understand that this is a hostage situation. We have the employees of the WWN captive. Attempt an assault, and we will not hesitate to execute them."_

"_But where are my manners? Of course, you should know who you are talking to."_

"_My name is Augustus Rookwood. Some will recognise my name. For those who don't, I am a Death Eater, and until very recently, I was incarcerated in Barden's Keep."_

"Send a squadron to the Keep! Now!" yelled Kingsley to the secretary.

"_Right now, I imagine orders are being shouted, memos are being hastily scribbled, and that the MLE is in something of an uproar."_

"Shut down Diagon Alley! Get me the MLE Chiefs!" Kingsley yelled over the sound of the wireless.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

One of my roommates burst into our room.

"Ginny, come quick! There's a Death Eater on the wireless!"

We dashed down the girls staircase and into the Common Room. At least half of Gryffindor House were gathered around a portable radio. The room was silent bar the voice coming from it.

"_But that is of no importance. I will be gone before they reach me here. And now, my message. Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I would like to inform you that Harry James Potter - the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One…is dead. Harry Potter is dead."_

There was a collective gasp from the group.

"_He fought valiantly, as you would expect him to, but in vain. Harry Potter is dead."_

"No…" I whispered. It couldn't be true. This Death Eater had to be lying.

"_You may think I am telling a lie. I assure you that I am not. I would not lie to you." "But there are liars amongst us! They know where Harry has been. They know what he has been doing since he vanished. And these people are none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley!"_

My mouth dropped open in shock.

* * *

><p>Kingsley sat down, and grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey from a desk drawer.<p>

"_That's right. The leaders of our world have lied to you from the very beginning."_

"_The people will want to know. Tell them, Minister. Tell them what Operation Wrath of Merlin is, and why it is responsible for the death of Harry Potter."_

The wireless cut to static.

The Minister for Magic took a long swig straight from the bottle, then uttered a single word:

"Fuck."

* * *

><p>Rookwood gave a smirk as he set the microphone down on the desk. He looked at the hostages, grouped in the middle of the room.<p>

"Kill them."

His Death Eaters moved in with a chorus of Killing Curses.

"We need to leave. The MLE will be here momentarily," said Creedy, his hands and robes slick with blood.

Rookwood nodded at his lieutenant.

"Are the explosives ready?"

"Of course."

"Give the word."

Creedy fished out a mirror from his robes and spoke into it, before looking back to Rookwood.

"We've got about thirty seconds before the wards repair."

Reaching inside his robes again, Creedy pulled out a folded umbrella and offered one end to Rookwood. Around them, the other Death Eaters were grabbing onto similar Portkeys.

"Let's go!"

Only moments after their departure, the _WWN_ offices exploded into flames.

* * *

><p>Kingsley exhaled slowly, before resolve settled on his features.<p>

If they wanted a war, they'd bloody well get one.

He took a mirror from his desk drawer and spoke into it.

"Get me Arthur, the Department Heads, and the Auror Commander."

Arthur was the first to arrive.

"Kingsley, you don't think -" "No, I don't. We have to believe that Harry is alive."

"What do we tell the Department Heads about Wrath of Merlin?"

"It doesn't exist. Follow my lead."

Within a couple of minutes, the rest of the Cabinet had assembled in Kingsley's office. Kingsley stood at his desk and spoke:

"I have summoned the Wizengamot to convene in two hours time. This what needs to happen between now and then."

"I'm declaring a state of emergency for the entire nation. I want trading suspended on the Exchanges immediately."

"The goblins aren't going to like it," said the Trade Minister.

"Well, they won't like it if the value of Galleons halves by tomorrow morning either."

"Right now, we need to control public communications. Can we broadcast from anywhere else?" asked Kingsley.

"_WWN Scotland_ is on standby. We've got a squadron of Hitwizards there now standing guard," informed the MLE Head.

"Good. Is Diagon Alley secure?"

"Happening as we speak."

"I'll address the nation tonight. I need language prepared for a conference after the Wizengamot session."

An aide nodded and made her way from the room.

"Gawain, I'm Unrestricting the Aurors. I don't care if Rookwood comes back dead or alive. Just find him."

The Auror Commander nodded grimly.

"Minister, what about Wrath of Merlin? And what of Potter?" spoke another of the Cabinet members.

Kingsley sighed.

"I can tell you all right now that I have never heard of Wrath of Merlin. Nor has Arthur. It doesn't exist. As for Harry Potter? He has risen from the dead before. Rookwood specialised in manipulation and slight-of-hand. What he says cannot be trusted."

"The safety of our people is our highest priority. Get to work. It's going to be a long night."

A few moments after the Cabinet members had left, V made her way into Kingsley's office.

"Tell me you have news," Kingsley said urgently.

"Minister, we've found X. He's critically injured, but alive. We're transferring him to St Mungos now," she replied.

Kingsley breathed a sigh of relief.

"When we found him he wasn't breathing. They tortured him to the very edge of his life before leaving him for dead."

"What of Harry? And Y?"

"No sign of Y. Harry was there, but it's hard to say when or for how long. Another magical signature is blanketing nearly everything out."

"What signature is that?"

"The Nostradamus Light."

"That can't be possible," Kingsley said, his face paling.

"Yet it is. M is verifying it now, but our field team is almost never wrong."

V exhaled before continuing, her face a grim mask.

"Minister, the Department of Mysteries has been compromised. And _that_ is more terrifying than anything else that has happened today."

* * *

><p>Kingsley took his place at the head of a table in an Unplottable room deep beneath the streets of London. Including himself and Arthur, seated to his right, there were seven wizards total.<p>

"They say this room is ten miles below the surface of the earth. Are you feeling any warmer?"

This earned a short chuckle from around the table.

"Gentlemen, we are all friends. Many of you have fought alongside me in the past, and offered your wisdom when I was appointed as Minister. You trusted me then and I'm asking you to trust me now. What I am about to tell you does not leave this room under penalty of high treason. This is a card I have kept, to this point, _very _close to my chest."

"Officially, Operation Wrath of Merlin does not exist."

"Unofficially, two Unspeakables - codenamed X and Y - and Harry Potter formed a black ops team and have been hunting down Voldemort's supporters and followers since July of last year. It has a black budget, and they do not take prisoners."

Not one of them seemed taken back by Kingsley's revelation.

"We lost contact with the operation late last night. The Department of Mysteries sent a recon team to their last known location. They determined that Y used a Life Spell, in likely defence of Harry Potter."

"Sorry, for those of us who don't who what a Life Spell is…?" asked one of the seven.

Another, a short man with a striking black beard spoke up:

"A Life Spell is magic worthy of Merlin himself. It's the controlled detonation of a wizard's magical energy. It's immensely complex, and due to its destructive nature, the spell has effectively been lost in antiquity. I'm surprised the Unspeakable was able to cast it."

Kingsley began speaking again. "The extraction team from Mysteries discovered X, close to death, a few hours ago. Ten minutes later, and they would've been too late. There was no sign of Harry when they found X. He is being treated at St Mungos as we speak, but it would be unwise to revive him for debriefing lest we kill him."

"Harry Potter is missing, allegedly dead. I don't know if that's the truth, but we obviously cannot utilise him in any capacity until we know for certain."

"What could Potter do, if found?"

"He is realised, Gregor. His power is exponential. X and Y dedicated themselves to ensuring his combat readiness. Whenever he wasn't battling Death Eaters, he was duelling with the Unspeakables. Their training unleashed his magical strength in a way that Hogwarts could never do. Remember, this is the boy who at _thirteen_ conjured a corporeal Patronus and drove off the Dementors hunting Sirius Black."

"Yes, I recall. Albus was very pleased with Potter at the time," mused another of the seven.

"What are we telling the media?"

"That Rookwood is dangerous and a madman. We're denying any knowledge of Harry's whereabouts or association with the Department of Mysteries."

"What do we know about Rookwood?"

"Rookwood supposedly died in his cell in the Keep two days ago. They thought he'd willed himself on fire. The postmortem confirmed it, but a more detailed autopsy has proven the first a false positive."

"So he escaped by staging his own death."

"Anyone else?"

"No, just him. He was in a solitary cell."

"How did he do it?"

"He had help from the outside. Somehow he was able to orchestrate much of it from inside his cell."

"But how? The wards on the Keep should be impenetrable."

"That's the thing. There's no sign of them being tampered with. It's almost like he got up and walked straight out of the Keep. Furthermore, it's likely he had Julius Creedy assisting him. Creedy rose to prominence in the Second War - one of a handful of Death Eaters to gain access to Voldemort's inner circle last year. He's a talented curse breaker, and spent time in a low-level research division in the Department of Mysteries."

"Creedy has been at large since the Battle of Hogwarts. He's one of the most-wanted on the MLE's list," added Arthur.

"How he got out is unimportant in the face of more pressing concerns: At the very least, the public is suspicious, we don't know what's happened to Potter, and Rookwood has just declared war," summarised one of the warlocks.

"We must allay public fears. Leave the Department of Mysteries to continue their search for Potter, and mobilise the MLE to deal with Rookwood," said another.

There was a murmur of consensus from around the table.

Kingsley stood.

"Thank you gentlemen. That's all for now."

* * *

><p>Thanks - please let me know what you think!<p> 


	18. The Shadow War Part II: The Dark Advance

A/N: Enjoy, and please review. Thanks to all those who reviewed last chapter, or have recently favourited the story - it really is an honour.

**XVIII. The Shadow War Part Two: The Dark Advance**

_Harry_

I cannot describe the experience of being caged in the Pit.

The terrible, awesome presence of countless Dementors, all feeding off your mind and soul, is not something adequately depicted with words. But as a cliff by the water's edge is lashed over millennia by sea and storm, my mind too was similarly assaulted.

Icy needles tore through my brain. Voldemort's face floated in front of my vision as he raised the Elder Wand to kill me again, and again, and again, and again.

And my ears were filled with my mother's screams.

_Again!_

_I was lying down, my face on the floor, in a large open room deep within the Department of Mysteries._

_Y stood over me, his wand drawn. Kingsley and X sat on chairs at the edge of the room, watching._

_I gritted my teeth and pushed myself off the floor, sending a curse flying at Y._

_He brushed it aside as if it were only a minor annoyance, and shot a tongue of fiery light back. Only with a hastily cast Shield Charm did I block it, but I could feel the searing heat as it rushed past._

_My concentration broke with the heat, and the second of hesitation was all that Y needed to slam me into the wall. _

_Another broken rib._

_I crumpled to the floor for the second time in as many minutes._

"_We make practice a battle, so that battle is just another practice!"_

_I swore under my breath at his mantra, then shook the stars out of my eyes, and fired a blasting curse at Y._

_He bore the brunt of it with a shield of his own, but it drove him back a few feet._

_It gave me the reprieve I needed. I focused, and blasted a series of powerful Stunners at my trainer._

_He parried the first, and the second, dodged the third, but the final jet of light slammed into his wand arm. He grunted in pain._

_It was the first time I had landed a hit on Y. It had taken a week. It would take another before I would land my second._

"_Good! Let's go again!"_

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

_Dear Ginny,_

_No doubt you will wonder, so let me tell you myself: the so-called Operation Wrath of Merlin is a lie. Neither Kingsley nor I have any idea where Harry is - but I do believe he is alive. We have to trust in him._

_Rookwood is a dangerous threat, and I implore you to be careful - even at Hogwarts. This is how he works, sowing seeds of dissent to undermine us and what we have fought for._

_We'll see you home at the end of the month._

_All my love,_

_Dad _

I reread the letter for the umpteenth time. I just couldn't decide if my father was telling the truth.

Rookwood's announcement on the radio that 'Operation Wrath of Merlin' was responsible for Harry's alleged death had only encouraged Hermione.

"Now we have a name," she had said.

"Do you think Harry is alive?"

"Yes, of course. I won't believe otherwise without concrete evidence."

Classic Hermione.

"For all we know," she said, studying the wall in the Room of Requirement, where she had been furiously rearranging her research, "Operation Wrath of Merlin could be so secret that Kingsley and your Dad didn't know it existed."

"Kingsley asked to speak to Harry, the day before he disappeared. I remember."

"Coincidence. I understand that it's easy to connect two things together," she said, waving her wand, "But most of the time, the connection just isn't there."

As if to illustrate her point, a golden thread linking two newspaper articles and a scrap of parchment with the word _PARIS_ scrawled on it disappeared.

"Where are you, Harry?" Hermione murmured.

I hadn't stopped wondering the same thing.

* * *

><p>Deep below London, a blonde witch with an easy smirk and silver-cuffed robes made her way into Kingsley's office.<p>

"Minister."

"V, what have you got for me?"

"We found the traitor who leaked the blueprints. He was bribed by Julius Creedy."

"But what about the Unbreakable Vow?"

"The traitor wasn't authorised to work on the Project, and never took the Vow. He used the Imperius Curse on one of the engineers. The engineer left the blueprints out in the open, and the traitor collected them. Technically, those actions didn't break the Vow - an oversight on our part."

Kingsley nodded.

"What about this traitor?"

"The Department has dealt with the matter suitably," V replied.

"Do I want to know?"

V's visage turned bitter.

"He wanted riches. So we drowned him in Galleons."

"I've heard enough," Kingsley said with distaste.

"I also bring more fortunate news. Our St Mungo's asset expects X to regain consciousness soon."

"Are you making any progress with reversing the magic of the Light?" "M doesn't think that it's possible. In our latest round of testing, the Light deployed with complete efficiency. It acts like radiation. No wall can hold it, no shield can stop it. There simply is no escape."

* * *

><p>The ward had five beds, but only the second was occupied. An Unspeakable stood guard at each end of the ward.<p>

Hearing a voice, X groaned, and opened his eyes.

"Welcome back. The Healers said you had woken earlier," said Kingsley, taking a seat by his bed.

"What's the time?"

"Just past eleven in the morning."

"What day?"

"It's a Monday. It's been three weeks since you were admitted." "I've been out for that long?" X said incredulously.

"Yes…when the extraction team found you, your heart had stopped. You're in a private ward at St Mungo's. It's been touch and go. The Healers thought you'd died at least three times. It's a wonder you're alive at all."

Kingsley fished out a paper from his robes, unfurled it, and handed it to X, who read the words covering the front page aloud.

"_Minister, what is Operation Wrath of Merlin? _Fuck."

"That was the headline the day after we found you. Augustus Rookwood and his men broke into the WWN, killed twenty-one people, and broadcast a message to every single wireless in Britain," Kingsley explained. "He said he killed Harry."

X's face, already pale, drained of its remaining colour.

"Do we know for certain?"

"No. We haven't had word, nor have we seen his body. His status is officially missing, presumed injured."

"Presumed injured? Kingsley, they used the Nostradamus Light! Assuming he is alive - he's as good as dead! Potter doesn't have magic!"

He paused then, his face settling into an unreadable expression as he came to a bitter realisation.

"Neither do I."

Kingsley placed a hand on his shoulder.

"V is going to run some tests on you later. They're reverse engineering their spells, trying to undo the magic of their Light."

X looked up at the Minister, a hollow look in his eyes.

"There's nothing _there_, Kingsley. It's gone, and it sure as hell doesn't feel like it's coming back."

"I'm truly sorry."

"Don't give me that bullshit," X gave him a disgusted look. "What are you telling the Ministry?"

"Operation Wrath of Merlin is a myth, the ramblings of a dangerous lunatic. We still have no idea where Harry is, but we're reassuring the public that we believe he's alive."

"Are they buying it?"

"For the most part. Hasn't stopped them from holding _'Hope for Harry' _vigils in the streets."

"They believe in him, Kingsley," X replied. "That I can understand. Because I do too."

* * *

><p>Gawain Robards rifled through the sheets of parchment, each a report on Rookwood's activity. Not one was helpful.<p>

He had never expected to be named as the Auror Commander. But after Kingsley had been named as the Minister for Magic by the Wizengamot, the Auror Office had looked to its most senior members.

And now he was expected to hunt down a a man trained in the depths of the Department of Mysteries, a super spy regarded as a strategic mastermind, with a sadistic streak a mile wide. Rookwood was a formidable opponent fighting the kind of guerrilla warfare Robards had little experience in, and short of covering every public target with guards - resources he did not have - there was no way to protect everyone.

He slammed the stack of parchment down on the desk in exasperation.

He was getting nowhere.

"Kara!"

A blonde witch poked her head around the door to his office.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Let Stark know I'm going home."

"Of course, sir."

Gawain appraised the young trainee Auror.

"How did your field test go?"

"Well enough. Second in the unit."

Gawain gave a small smirk. By protocol, trainees were not meant to share their scores with their classmates - a rule largely ignored by the aspiring Aurors for centuries.

"Excellent. That's all, Miss Albright."

"Sir."

He pulled some powder from a pot and sprinkled it into the fireplace that connected his home to a secure Floo line. Tonight, he would forget about Rookwood; forget about the fact that four senior officials had been murdered in the last fortnight; forget that the WWN was just a black scorch mark on Diagon Alley; and forget that the Prophet was writing headlines questioning his ability to get the job done.

He murmured his address and stepped into the fireplace, reappearing moments later in the fireplace of his own home. He dusted the soot off his robes and walked through to the dining room.

His wife lay unconscious, bleeding to death in a pool of blood on the floor. The bodies of two Auror guards were crumpled in the corner, victims of the Killing Curse.

And surrounding him, with a wand pointed at him from every direction, were Rookwood and his men.

"Robards!" Rookwood exclaimed. "I must say, it is a pleasure. Take a seat, please. This is, after all, _your_ home."

Gawain didn't move.

Rookwood gave a barely discernible nod, and Gawain felt a wand being pushed into his neck.

"_Crucio."_

The pain brought him to his knees and he let out a yell.

"Take. A. Seat. Commander."

Gawain was shoved unceremoniously into a chair and his wand was taken from him.

"You know, we used to fear the Aurors in the early days," Rookwood said. His voice was silky, with barely an edge to it.

"Moody…fuck, now _there_ was a leader. He slaughtered us like dogs. More than once I was convinced that he'd walk into my office in the Department of Mysteries undecided on whether he'd bother dragging me to Courtroom One or just kill me where I sat."

Rookwood sipped at his drink.

"But you Gawain, we don't fear you."

"Hell, we fear Potter. We fear Potter because for the last year he's been _hunting us down_. Wrath of Merlin is real, Robards. They're running it right under your nose. Believe me, I know how the Department of Mysteries works. It's all secrets, and the less the MLE knows, the better."

Rookwood fixed him with an intense stare.

"He killed _thirty-four_ Death Eaters. That Manor house outside Birmingham. All Potter. He's no longer a boy. He's a weapon that threatened our very existence."

He leaned back and gestured with his palms.

"So what does a beast do when threatened? He cowers away, or he turns and fights….we decided to fight."

"He's alive, still. The reason why I haven't killed him myself is because I'm not entirely sure he'd stay dead. Nor do I want a Killing Curse rebounding in my face. So we sent him to hell. Of course, that was after we took away his magic with another one of Kingsley's toys that no one has bothered to tell you about."

"Say, isn't the Auror Commander meant to be in charge of national security? Seems you missed the memo."

Rookwood sighed.

"You're a good man, Robards. A good soldier. But you'll never be a great man. You'll never inspire, never truly lead. Not like Potter, not like Shacklebolt…not even like me. It's _pathetic_."

Rookwood picked Gawain's wand up from off the table, inspecting it with his hands.

"Not bad."

Suddenly, with a violent motion, he snapped it with a smirk.

"Why so quiet, _Commander_?"

Gawain Robards looked at the Death Eater in front of him with dead eyes. When he spoke, his words carried the weight of a man with nothing left to lose.

"Go fuck yourself."

"Defiant to the last, then," Rookwood mused, then shifted to instruct Creedy. "_Break_ him."

* * *

><p>Kingsley Shacklebolt woke with a groan to the sound of an alarm bell ringing.<p>

He checked the wristwatch lying on his bedside table.

2:04.

"Minister."

It was then that he realised that his bedroom was full of Aurors.

"What the fuck is-"

"Minister, the Auror Commander is dead," spoke one of the Aurors, a voice Kingsley recognised as belonging to a senior Auror, Albion Stark. "We're here to transfer you to the Ministry."

"How long ago?" Kingsley asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"We were alerted by his neighbour - a retired Hitwizard - about half an hour ago. Said he thought something was off, and he was right."

"They killed his wife and son too, then tortured him. We don't know if he broke before they killed him, but we've changed all the security codewords and magical signatures to be safe."

"Do we have his body?"

Stark's face grew bleaker.

"Minister, they stuck his head on a stake in his front lawn. Here."

The Auror handed Kingsley a photo that depicted the gruesome scene.

"Fuck."

"The media doesn't know, but they will."

"Is the scene being cleared?"

"As we speak."

"Good. Last thing we need is this on the front page."

Stark nodded, and handed him one end of an umbrella.

"Ready?"

"Yes," Kingsley replied, grabbing ahold of the Portkey.

"Stand by. Prepare to receive," announced Stark, seemingly to someone located at the Ministry.

Kingsley felt the familiar jolt, and moments later, the group reappeared in the Atrium.

"Close the classified Floo lines," Kingsley ordered. "All essential personnel are to stay at the Ministry until Rookwood is apprehended."

"You don't think we're playing into his hands by having everyone here?" Stark asked.

"If Rookwood wants to take the Ministry, he'll have to take on _me,_" Kingsley said grimly.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"_I want to learn how to cast Fiendfyre."_

_X and Y shared a glance._

"_The trick is not in the casting, but controlling it, Harry. A single drop of Fiendfyre can burn an entire city to the ground," said X._

"_Voldemort could do it. He used it against Dumbledore in my fifth year. If he could control it, so can I."_

"_Fiendfyre is relentless, Harry. It does not forgive," Y warned._

"_Neither do I."_

"_Fine."_

_Y made a broad stroke with his wand, and summoned a tongue of flame. It danced in midair, twisting with pent-up rage._

"_Use your wand, command the fire."_

_I extended my wand and the tongue of flame latched onto the tip. Immediately, it flared up._

"_Control it! Fiendfyre has no restraints, no rules. It understands nothing but to burn. It is pure chaos. Your will is it's only master."_

_I exerted control over the flame, and it diminished._

"_Good. If you want to shape it, form the image in your mind, and loosen your control slightly. It will do the rest. The real effort is controlling it when you give it a new form," Y instructed._

"_I understand," I replied._

_I formed the image of a Hungarian Horntail in my mind, and the small tongue of flame blazed anew into the shape of the flaming beast with an ear-splitting roar. I let the beast encircle the room a couple of times, before enforcing my control over the flame once again._

_It diminished, and then disappeared, leaving only a thin trail of acrid smoke._

"_Congratulations Harry. Your progress this last month has been quite remarkable," X said approvingly._

"_There is only one thing left to learn. The Dark Arts."_

"_Dark magic wasn't part of the deal," I replied adamantly._

_X grunted. "Fine. I think it's time for a lesson in pragmatic strategy. If you believe that you can fight this war without a mastery of dark magic, then prove it. Defend yourself."_

_His attack came with a fury I had never encountered, not even from Y._

_Lightning crashed through each shield I cast, and each spell I fired was brushed aside by black magic._

_Three jets of sinister light shot towards me. I ducked, parried, and shielded, the last brushing over my forearm. I winced as a thin line of blood appeared._

_And then I collapsed, screaming in pain as the curse began to dissolve the very flesh from my arm. The acrid stench of rotting meat filled my senses as I writhed about in agonising pain, before everything went black._

* * *

><p>Kingsley Shacklebolt looked around the group of assembled Ministry officials.<p>

With sadness etched across his face, he began.

"Good morning. Today, I bring you together to share solemn news. The Auror Commander is dead, murdered at the hands of Rookwood's men along with his wife and son. They were found at their home only hours ago. His daughter remains at Hogwarts."

A murmur of shock ran around the room.

"We are organising safe locations for your families. Clearly, the classified Floo lines can no longer be relied upon."

"All essential personnel - which is the majority of you here - will remain accommodated at the Ministry until this crisis is over. We have a nation to run."

"Minister, what are we to do?"

Kingsley looked at the wizard who had questioned him with a hawklike stare that betrayed none of the uncertainty that swelled in his chest, nor the fear that more meetings like this one would follow.

"Endure."

* * *

><p>After the officials had filed out of the room, Kingsley slammed his fist against the table.<p>

"Fuck!"

"Kingsley, you need to calm-" Arthur implored.

"They put his head on a stake in his own bloody front lawn! We are losing this war!" Kingsley yelled.

Arthur stood in front of him, his expression unchanging.

"Got that off your chest?"

Kingsley sighed.

"Yes. Sorry, Arthur."

The Weasley patriarch waved it off. "This is an impossible situation, Kingsley."

"The question is, what do we do now?"

"We've got every available person in MLE looking for Rookwood, but they can't find him or his group. The Department of Mysteries is desperately trying to plug their leak, the only place they're looking right now is the mirror."

"Minister - I'm addressing you as Minister because what I'm about to suggest, I want to do so in the capacity of the office I hold," Arthur explained.

"Go on."

"Use the Light," Arthur spoke simply. "Use it and _end _him, regardless of the collateral. He will reappear, and when he does, use it. Without Wrath of Merlin, it may be the only way."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

_I made my way back into the training hall where X and Y waited for me. My arm, still wrapped in thick bandages, still ached with sharp spasms of pain._

"_Do you understand now?" X asked. Neither he nor Y displayed any kind of sympathy._

"_Yes."_

"_Good. Are you ready to learn?"_

"_Show me."_

_X conjured a crackling bolt of dark energy from his wand, twirling it around his wand._

"_Dark magic can be fuelled by rage, just as a Patronus can be fuelled by a happy memory."_

"_It doesn't have to be anger at a person, it can be anger at an ideal, anger at a sentiment, anger in the will to kill, the desire to cause harm."_

"_Magic that does this, magic that is dangerous - much is classified as Dark magic, but true dark magic is that which uses darkness itself."_

"_In every person, there is light and dark, good and bad. Mastery of dark magic requires you to embrace that darkness. Tip the balance, Harry, but only as far as you can pull it back. Succumb to it, and you will become no more than those who we are going to kill."_

"_Let your anger win, Harry. Let your hate for these people who have taken so much from you, taken your friends, your family, those you love - let it power your magic."_

"_Now cast, like this." _

_He gestured with his wand._

_I mimicked the gesture, and lightning briefly crackled around my wand._

"_Good. Try again. Focus. Summon the anger."_

_I let out a cry of rage, and a furious blast of black lightning burst from my wand._

_It was exhilarating. I understood, for the first time, the lure of dark magic._

_I felt invincible._

_X and Y exchanged another look, appraising me._

"_He is ready."_

* * *

><p>AN: We're not out of the woods just yet! Thanks for reading and don't forget to let me know what you think.


	19. The Spymaster's Last Stand

A new chapter! Thanks for your patience, and I hope to have another chapter up within the next three to four weeks. Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>XIX. The Spymaster's Last Stand<strong>

The Mediwitch grimaced under the bright lamp that shone into her face.

"Please state your full name," the witch in front of her asked.

"Anna Smith."

"_Smith_ is uncommon in the wizarding world. You're a Muggleborn?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been working as a Mediwitch?"

"Four years."

"From your academic transcript; you graduated top three of your class at St Mungos."

"That's confidential info-" Anna exclaimed.

"Please. I'll ask the questions," the witch said sharply.

"Look, I don't even know why I'm-"

"Miss Smith, what you brought into the Ministry with you today is more important than you can possibly imagine. I am conducting this interview because it is a matter of national security. That's all you need to know right now."

She paused.

"I don't take you for someone stupid, Miss Smith. And I'm sure you're capable of piecing information together. The man you treated was the highest ranking Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. I think you can appreciate the sensitive nature of that information, and do not take me for anything less than extremely serious when I say that what you know - and have witnessed today - has endangered your life."

"Are we clear?"

"Y-yes," Anna replied nervously.

"Good. Would you like some tea?"

"Er, no thanks."

"Suit yourself."

The witch poured herself a cup of tea and sipped at it, then fixed her with a hard stare.

"This is just an interview, not an interrogation, so I want your account of everything that's happened today. I have every faith that you will be truthful, but if I think that you are lying to me, then we have other ways of getting the information from you. And I assure you that every single one of them is _exceedingly_ unpleasant."

The woman's gaze softened then, and Anna relaxed sightly.

"I'll get you to begin from the start of your shift today."

* * *

><p>The rain began as an elderly warlock began to speak.<p>

"We are gathered here today as the result of terrible tragedy, to mourn and remember the lives of the Auror Commander, Gawain Robards, his wife Alice, and son Tyler."

Kingsley stood with his head bowed, next to Arthur. Behind him, people were conjuring umbrellas and the monotone sermon of the old wizard was joined by the patter of raindrops on stretched fabric.

Kingsley stole a glance at the young girl standing opposite. Gawain's daughter. She made no effort to hide the tears that flowed down her cheeks, and she wore the same broken expression that he had seen on Harry's face more than once.

He had a speech prepared, and soon, the warlock would invite him to speak. It was nothing new for the Minister for Magic.

But this feeling of helplessness, that there was seemingly no way to end the slaughter - this was something Kingsley was not used to.

Rookwood was a ghost, his men skilled in guerrilla tactics and trained to resist wards like _dar-jach_; agents of brutality and chaos.

Kingsley was broken from his thoughts by the warlock's voice.

"Minister? Can I impress upon you to say a few words?"

Kingsley nodded, and stepped forwards.

"Of course."

* * *

><p>"Hell of a thing, Minister. You've lost a fine man."<p>

Kingsley nodded, and was about to reply when he was interrupted by an Auror.

"I'm sorry Minister, you've got to come with us right now."

Two more Aurors closed in, and began pushing through the throng of people at the service.

"What happened?"

"We need to get you to safety first."

"Where's Arthur?"

"He's already gone," the Auror replied as they headed towards the back exit.

_BOOM._

The sudden explosion rocked through the building, sending everyone to the floor.

"POSITION COMPROMISED!" yelled the first Auror into a two-way mirror as she scrambled to her feet. "I NEED AN OPEN PORTAL, NOW!"

The second Auror handed Kingsley a length of rope.

"Grab hold, Minister."

Kingsley did so, and almost immediately felt a tug as he was jolted out of the building.

He reappeared out of emptiness, and immediately recognised the Auror safehouse he'd been transported to.

The open plan warehouse was in uproar. MLE personnel were scrambling everywhere.

"Casualties confirmed!" one Auror shouted.

"How many?" Kingsley asked, grabbing the man's shoulder.

"Sir, three Hitwizards were killed in the initial explosion. Several guests are being treated for minor wounds, and two are in intensive care," the Auror replied crisply.

"Minister, can I get you to take a seat over here? We'll get you to the Ministry shortly," asked another Auror.

"Of course."

Kingsley moved to where the wizard gestured and sat down. He was about to ask how soon 'shortly' would be when the Auror was interrupted by a new incoming transmission.

"Yes…hold on. Repeat….confirmed. Priority red. Priority red…Royal is present. Will advise."

The Auror turned to Kingsley, his face grim.

"Minister, we just got a distress call from the hospital. Death Eaters are at St Mungo's."

* * *

><p><em>Anna (four hours ago)<em>

"Sir, I'll get you to stand up now."

The man shrugged off my hand on his shoulder and slowly placed pressure on his feet before standing with a slow exhale of breath.

"I'm alright."

"That's excellent, sir. Can you hold out your arm? I need to check your dressings."

He complied. I knew nothing of the man I was nursing to health, except that I should address him as 'sir' and not ask questions unless medically relevant. But I had overheard whispers of the Department of Mysteries, and I had caught glimpses of the Minister for Magic himself visiting on more than one occasion.

Not to mention the two men who stood at either end of the ward with their hands clasped together. Neither had uttered a single word since arriving a day after the patient.

I did not recognise his face, I did not know his name, but this man was very important.

"We're going to go downstairs to Spell Damage. Healer Booke wants to take another look at your chest wounds. Are you okay to walk?"

"I can manage."

That the patient had been assigned to Healer Booke was another tell. Hospital legend had it that the Department of Mysteries had approached Kai Booke not ten minutes after he had graduated to full Healer status with an offer to become a Ministry agent. Whenever asked about it, Booke just answered with an indulgent smile.

I escorted him downstairs, with both of his bodyguards following at a short distance, when I heard shouting in the distance, and then:

_BOOM. BOOM._

The blasts shook the corridor.

The man turned to the two Unspeakables.

"Go!"

They obeyed him without hesitation, running in the direction of the explosions.

"We need to return to my ward," he said.

"Of course," I replied.

We began to backtrack.

"Do…do you know what is happening?"

He gave me an appraising look.

"Probably Rookwood," he replied, seemingly unfazed that a dark wizard was attacking the hospital.

I found his calm unnerving, and didn't reply as we exited the stairwell.

He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me backwards as a green jet whistled inches past my face.

"Get down!"

I dove to the ground as another jet of light passed overhead.

"We need cover, quickly. That ward," he instructed.

I crawled along the ground, and pushed a swinging door open, thanking Merlin it was unlocked.

Four children, their eyes wide in fright, looked up from their beds as we entered the ward.

One looked like she was about to cry, and I went to her, shushing her.

A sharp gasp made me turn to the man. Beads of sweat covered his face. He let out a second gasp, and then, with his brow furrowed, closed his hands into fists before opening them again.

"Sir, you're bleeding…the bandage-"

He glanced at me, a look of grim satisfaction covering his face.

"I couldn't care less."

He clenched his fist and it glowed a vivid blue, with sparks of magical energy detonating in the air around it.

He gave a short laugh. The sound sent a chill down my spine.

"Give me your wand."

Shakily, I handed it to him without objection.

"Once I leave, lock the doors. Then get under the desk. Hide. Get the children hidden too."

"But…what, what are you going to do?"

He fixed me with a thousand-yard stare.

"I'm going to kill them all."

* * *

><p><em>X.<em>

I noted the distinct click as the Mediwitch locked the door. The children inside the ward were as safe as they could be for now.

The wand warmed to my grip. I could sense it was not suited to curses, more to charms work, but I wasn't in a situation to be picky.

I rounded the corner of the corridor, and just like that, they were there.

The Kill Squad sent to finish the job, led by none other than Julius Creedy.

"Good morning, gentlemen."

"The infamous X. Augustus speaks highly of you," Creedy replied.

"Creedy. I daresay I'm disappointed. You didn't even bring me any flowers," I remarked wryly.

Creedy smirked.

"I fear your droll sentiments will be of little good here. Although, the wand is a nice touch. Tell me, what is it like to lose all your magic?"

"It's not as fun as getting it back," I replied, focusing my renewed magical energy. There was little point in masking it now.

Genuine fear flickered alight in Creedy's eyes.

"No! How-"

"Your Light failed."

"No matter," said Creedy, regaining his composure. "Potter is as good as dead, and you'll join your other man shortly."

"Potter is alive then?"

"Yes, although, where he is, death would be a kinder mercy," taunted Creedy.

"Enough talk," I replied, assuming a duelling stance. Crackling bolts of dark magical energy sparked from my wand.

Creedy stepped into his own duelling stance with a sadistic smirk.

"Let's do this."

"Your funeral," Creedy shrugged, raising his wand.

I unleashed a raging torrent of magical energy that floored two Death Eaters before crashing to a halt against Creedy's hastily cast shield.

Two pinpoint Killing Curses followed, sending two more crumbling to the floor.

The ferocity of my attack had pushed the Death Eaters back, but I was still vastly outnumbered.

A jet of purple light streaked across my flank, leaving a cut in my side that made me pause. Sensing an advantage, the remaining Death Eaters pressed the attack.

Creedy launched a powerful Blasting Curse against my shimmering blue shield. The resulting explosion rocked the corridor, sending shards of glass and mortar everywhere. Debris rained down upon me, and I twisted to avoid a Killing Curse, before retaliating with a burst of white lightning.

With two precise flicks, I severed a Death Eater's arm clean from his shoulder, before pushing him into the path of a jet of green light. I dodged a fist with a sidestep, and blasted two holes through the gut of another.

They weren't bad.

But I was better.

The lightning danced as I spun vivid energy in the air, vying for supremacy with the group of black-robed killers.

I gave a shout, and inky black tendrils shot from my wand, shredding through two more Death Eaters. Creedy retaliated with a jet of dark energy, which I deflected with dark magic of my own.

A witch rushed me with her fist held, claw-like, around a shimmering purple aura. I conjured a short blade and dodged her outreached hand, before twisting to drive my blade through her neck.

Somehow, I missed the spell that splintered the bones in my left leg up to the hip. I collapsed almost immediately with a yell as agonising pain overcame me.

"Crucio!"

The pain in my leg suddenly ceased to matter, as a new torment tore through every fibre of my being.

"Crucio!"

I writhed about on the floor as they unleashed the Cruciatus curse again, and again.

There were only four left, but it was done. I had nothing left.

No.

There was another way.

It meant my fate was decided.

I would not see the light of another day.

But neither would they.

I whispered the dreaded incantation under my breath.

"_Crucio!"_

But I felt no pain. My body was given to Death.

I stood, as dark magic fuelled me with devastating power, and let out an unearthly roar.

I did not feel anything when I punched _through_ the chest of the nearest Death Eater, or crushed the throat of another with my bare hands. When the third hit me with two jets of green light, I did not falter.

I was inexorable.

I took his head in my hands and snapped his neck in one swift motion as Creedy looked on, horrified.

"Die!"

The blasting curse blew a hole through my chest, piercing through my lung, yet I felt nothing.

I grabbed his wrist and pulled with inhuman strength, tearing his arm from the shoulder like pulling at a root in the ground.

I flung the severed limb away, and in doing so, gave Creedy the tiniest opening.

He reached into his robes with his remaining hand, and shakily pulled out a small pocket watch as blood gushed from the hole where he had previously had an arm.

"_Portus."_

And then he was gone.

Already, sensation was beginning to return to me. The mindless berserker rage was clearing. The wounds I had sustained were mortal injuries.

With a grunt, I slumped to the ground.

* * *

><p><em>Anna<em>

The floor was slick with blood. Eleven bodies lay sprawled out through the corridor.

The man clutched his side and coughed blood.

"They're all…they're all dead," I said, incredulously.

"They're going to pave my way to Hell," he said, spitting blood again.

"We can save you!"

"No," he replied, and his breath was long and laboured.

"My time has come. I used black magic, some for which there is no cure. I will not survive this."

He reached with a shaky hand and pulled a strain of memory from his forehead with my wand.

"A vial…quickly. Good girl."

I guided the shimmering strand into a small vial I kept tucked into my belt.

"Your wand…it served me well."

I took my wand back and tucked it into my belt.

"Do…not speak of this to anyone else. Give my memory to the Minister for Magic. It is for his eyes only. This is the most important thing you will ever do. Go now."

"I don't want to leave you alone," I said.

"We all die alone."

I nodded, tears welling in my eyes, and walked away from the strange man.

* * *

><p><em>X.<em>

I watched the Mediwitch leave, my eyes struggling to stay open. Kingsley would witness my final battle, and see Creedy's revelation that Harry was still alive. There was still hope.

I let out a sigh. There was little pain now.

Harry.

Wherever you are, hear me.

You did not want this war.

And despite everything you've done, everything you've been trained to do, you are not me.

You are not me, an empty, hollow shell of a man, with a daughter who will never know him.

The worst of us must be balanced by the best of you.

You must finish this war before you lose yourself.

_End_ them.

"You are ready."

* * *

><p>"After I left him, I came straight here," Anna finished.<p>

"Thank you, Miss Smith."

"What will you do with the memory? He made me promise to get it to the Minister."

"The Minister will be seeing it shortly. He would like me to pass on his personal thanks."

The witch stood.

"That's it?" Anna asked.

"We're done with the interview, Miss Smith. Your answers have been satisfactory. But your part in this is not over. The Aurors are going to take you to a safe location. What you have witnessed today means your life is in danger."

"What about the hospital? My job? My rent?"

"All taken care of," the witch replied, gesturing towards the door.

"Follow me."

* * *

><p>"The Mediwitch has been taken care of, Minister," V said, entering Kingsley's office.<p>

The Minister stood with his head bowed, both hands resting on the edges of a Pensieve standing in the corner of the room.

"Good. I don't want the press near her."

"I take it you've seen the memory?"

"Just now."

"He fought bravely," V remarked.

"That he did. You're now the acting Department Head. Serve me well and the appointment becomes permanent."

"Thank you, sir."

"Send Arthur in. He should see this."

* * *

><p>Arthur resurfaced from the Pensieve.<p>

"Merlin's beard," he whispered.

"It's not easy to watch," Kingsley remarked.

"No…it really is not," Arthur agreed.

"Creedy, as you saw, escaped."

"He was lucky to. X was phenomenal."

"He died in battle. Somehow, that's exactly how he would want it. A glorious death."

"Perhaps the greater tragedy is that too few will know of his service and his sacrifice for us all," Arthur mused.

"At least now we know Rookwood was lying. Harry is alive."

"Yes, but imprisoned - Creedy said death would be a kinder mercy."

"I have faith that Harry can survive. He is, if anything, resilient."

Arthur gave a small grin.

"You're not wrong."

"There is still hope, Arthur. And in the past, that has been enough."

* * *

><p>"I'm disappointed, Creedy."<p>

"X is dead. I blew a hole into his chest," Creedy replied, his voice betraying the pain he was in.

"Yet only you survived. Tell me, was it worth losing your fucking arm in the process?"

"His death is a blow worth twenty men. And I can create a replacement limb."

"Perhaps," Rookwood narrowed his eyes. "The attack on Robard's funeral service was not part of the plan."

"I saw the opportunity, and took it."

"For what? A few dead Hitwizards?" Rookwood replied scathingly.

"If it had been successful, we might have taken Shacklebolt."

"You'd be lucky to get within fifty feet of him. When - and only when - it becomes apparent that Shacklebolt is unable to put a stop to our little insurgency, then the Wizengamot will have no choice but to remove him from office. That's when he'll be vulnerable. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. Because our next move is very, very dangerous, and if we don't execute it perfectly, then we are finished along with any chance of vengeance."

"What are we doing?"

"We're going to raise the dead."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I awoke.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think; I always appreciate reading your comments.<p> 


	20. Holyhead

I know that I mentioned another chapter wouldn't be up for another three weeks…but I figure if it's ready, why not? This is very action-packed – enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>XX. Holyhead<strong>

_Harry_

Time had lost all meaning in the Pit. I did not know if I had been caged in there for hours, or days, or weeks. In the absence of light, amidst total desolation, there had been no reprieve from the Dementors.

Yet somehow, I endured.

Somehow, I didn't lose my mind.

To this day I don't know how I survived, but I knew I hadn't lost my sense of purpose.

And as I opened my eyes, coursing energy flowing through me, I was sure of just two things:

The first: I had my magic back.

The second: Rookwood was going to die.

I stood within the confines of the cage, and focused on that thought.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Brilliant white light exploded from my body.

I laughed. It was a sound I had not heard in a long time.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

I yelled again. It felt good just to say it.

The bright light intensified. Accustomed only to darkness, my eyes stung. Then, the light from my Patronus pushed outwards. The Dementors, constantly circling around my cage, shied away from the golden bars, their sudden shrieks of torment music to my ears.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

In the darkest place on earth, I had found light.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

I inhaled slowly.

I looked up, and gripped the bars of the cage.

"Ascendio."

Nothing happened.

"Ascendio!" I tried again, concentrating with all my might.

This time, the cage jolted upwards a few inches before stopping.

I grinned.

"Ascendio!"

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

"You move in Monday, with orientation in the afternoon," Hermione said, idly flicking through the Harpies schedule that had just arrived by express owl. "Tuesday and Wednesday will be full training days. You get Thursday morning off, and then the afternoon is prep for the Press Conference that night."

I stretched out on my camp bed. The MLE safehouse wasn't terrible, but I really couldn't wait to get out of here.

Ron had been particularly irritated about the whole ordeal, not wanting to close the joke shop, but Hermione had told him that all the jokes in the world wouldn't make her happy if she lost him.

With that, he had ceased complaining immediately. I had to hand it to her, really.

Mum, Dad and Percy were staying at the Ministry proper, and Bill and Fleur had taken Andromeda and Teddy in to Shell Cottage. Bill had assured Mum that it was perfectly safe, and even if Death Eaters managed to break through _his _wards, they would have ample time to make an escape.

Charlie was in Europe, far from Rookwood's reach, and George was staying with Angelina. He had started to improve in recent weeks, and I could only hope that I would have my brother back soon.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I clambered out of the cage as my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, and immediately kneeled over and vomited. My head was spinning, and I lay on the ground, exhausted with the exertion of my escape from the Pit.

My Patronus, the shimmering silver stag, stood nearby, surveying the bleak cave. Not a Dementor was in sight, although I could feel their chill to the bone.

Gratefully, I slept.

* * *

><p>When I woke, my head was clear.<p>

I knew what I had to do.

I wouldn't have the resources of Wrath of Merlin available to me. I wouldn't have help from X or Y.

But I was going to exact vengeance on Rookwood and his Death Eaters.

They would pay the most terrible price.

But first, I needed to get out of the prison.

On my previous visit, I had seen a number of boats tethered to the dock. So long as the wards didn't hold me back, I could cross the North Sea and return.

I remembered then, with a sinking feeling, that Rookwood had thrown my wand into the Pit. I would retrieve it later - after I figured out a way how - but in the meantime, I was gong to need a new wand.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

"Wow," Hermione exclaimed as we arrived at the front gates, early on Monday morning. Hermione had leapt at the chance to accompany me out of the safehouse.

'Wow' was right. The home of the Holyhead Harpies was a large Manor House that sat on the hillside overlooking the beachfront and the township. Behind it, invisible to Muggles, stood the imposing Holyhead Bowl, a four-tiered stadium that had stood for over half a millennia. Inside the stadium hung thirty-three banners, each denoting a year when the Harpies had won the League Cup.

We met a guide at the front entrance. I looked around, and noticed several nondescript figures standing still, but their eyes were constantly moving, and the majority had a hand resting on a wand holster.

"Miss Weasley, welcome to Holyhead. I wanted to let you know that season ticket holders are at our highest levels in years, and we're hopeful for a breakout season with a legitimate title chance," the guide said. It seemed like a strange way to greet someone.

"Augustus Rookwood is on the loose and the threat level is the highest it's been since Voldemort was alive, but nothing stops for Quidditch," remarked Hermione wryly.

"We've hired additional security for the town, and the MLE have increased their beat patrols as well. A Hitwizard squadron will also set up base at the stadium complex," said the Holyhead guide. "All paid for, of course, by Harpies Quidditch."

"So reassuring," Hermione replied.

"Ignore her," I said to the guide with a smirk. "She just doesn't understand Quidditch."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I arrived on the outskirts of Hogmeade.

Only a few lights shone from Hogwarts. The students were not there. Slowly, I made my way around the Black Lake to the White Tomb, and with a gesture, opened it. Dumbledore lay peacefully there. His body, magically preserved, looked the same as when I had originally returned the stolen wand to his tomb.

"I wouldn't take it, Professor. But it's an emergency."

I felt once again like a sheepish schoolboy making an excuse. Carefully, I lifted the Elder Wand from his chest.

It felt warm in my hand. The Deathstick recognised its master.

I had my wand back. Now I needed intel.

I closed Dumbledore's tomb, and disappeared again with a _crack_.

* * *

><p>Kingsley made his way into his office, and closed the door. With a simple wave of his hand, the dim lights grew brighter.<p>

"Good evening, Kingsley."

Kingsley drew his wand out in a flash.

Harry Potter stepped out of the shadows, pulling the Invisibility Cloak off his shoulders.

"Merlin's beard. You're alive!"

"I'm the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry replied with a wry smirk. "Don't sound so surprised."

"I just…how…?"

"Get Arthur in here," Harry said impassively, before his visage darkened. "And then you're going to tell me everything you know about the Nostradamus Light."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"Well, I suppose you want an explanation too?" I asked, addressing Kingsley, Arthur, and someone new to me: V, who Kingsley had invited.

"You bet I do."

"They put me in the Pit, Kingsley," I replied hollowly.

"Fuck…" Kingsley said in an incredulous whisper.

"Somehow, I got my magic back."

"How did you get here?" V asked.

"Broke through the wards, took a boat and crossed the North Sea."

She raised an eyebrow, but I could not tell if she was surprised or impressed.

"What of X?" I asked.

"He died, Harry. A Kill Squad broke into St Mungo's - this was just four days ago. He managed to defeat them, but at the cost of his own life. His last memory was of Creedy telling him that you were still alive."

"Without X and Y…we're done, Harry," Kingsley concluded.

"Not before I get Rookwood," I replied in a tone that left no room for argument.

"I want him alive."

"Perhaps," I said. "Tell me about Nostradamus."

"The Nostradamus Project was born of necessity. We needed more than you, more than the Aurors. If you had failed to stop Voldemort, what would have stopped him?"

"The Nostradamus Light is that answer. A Light can end all magic inside any being or object. We even believe it could counter a Horcrux," V added.

"Rookwood said something to me, before putting me in the Pit. He said that the Light had been created because of me," I said.

"No. We created it because of Voldemort."

"But you feared that I might go dark."

"We did."

"You admit that the contingency was in place, then?" I pressed.

Kingsley sighed.

"Harry, I-"

"I understand, Kingsley."

I stood, and when I spoke again, I was, in a way, a different man.

"Don't doubt me again."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I returned to my quarters in the Department of Mysteries, and collapsed into my bed, overcome with exhaustion.

Nearly twenty-four hours had passed when I woke, starving. I made my way out to the living quarters to find a spread laid out on the dining table, magically preserved. Grateful for food, I tucked in.

After my meal, I went straight to the operations room, pausing at the doorway.

It felt wrong not seeing X there, drawing magical threads between photos and reports, or attending to the map on the wall; or Y, idly twirling his wand in his hands, leaning back on his chair with his feet up on the table.

Y had imploded the magical energy inside his soul.

X had duelled twelve Death Eaters to their end.

And now they were gone.

I took a seat at the table, ignoring the stack of parchment that had accumulated. Evidently, the Mysteries Intelligence Division had seen fit to continue sending their findings our way.

With a wave of my wand, I cleared one of the walls, and stuck a picture of Rookwood in the centre. I drew lines to information we had on members of the London Group of Death Eaters, and Julius Creedy.

"Need a hand?"

I whipped around, with the Elder Wand outstretched, a curse on the tip of my tongue.

V raised her hands.

"Er, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

I lowered my wand, and nodded. I didn't know how much I could trust the secretive witch.

Her eyes flicked to my wand.

"Is that-?"

"It is," I replied.

"Master of the Hallows. Perhaps that is how you cheated death, Mr Potter."

"Call me Harry."

She gave me a curt nod herself, and then eyed my work on the wall.

"You want him dead."

"Yes."

"So far, we've been reactionary. Rookwood strikes, and slips into the shadows before the Aurors arrive. We need to take the fight to him."

She took a seat at the table, and began taking files from the top of the stack of parchment.

"We've got the element of surprise. Rookwood assumes you're contained in the Pit," she added, her face shrewd.

"What do you suggest?"

Her face hardened.

"Let's catch the rat in a trap."

* * *

><p>"You've taken out the Auror Commander. If you are Rookwood, who do you hit next?"<p>

"The Cabinet. Seniors in the Wizengamot."

"They're all residing inside the Ministry. I've got to hand it to Kingsley. He's turned the place into a fortress. Rookwood's too smart to launch a frontal assault."

"You go after their friends and families," I remarked.

"Most have been transferred to MLE safe houses. Your friends, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, for example, have been relocated to Birmingham," V said.

It had been two days, and we had seemingly made no progress. To my frustration, V had steadfastly rebutted my desire to go topside, reasoning that we depended on the element of surprise, and that the Intelligence Division was perfectly capable of finding information.

"We just have to be patient, Potter."

—

_Ginny_

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you could please take your seats, we'll be underway shortly," announced the media representative for the team, a short blonde witch dressed in a Muggle blazer.

There was a murmur of assent from the assembled Press.

"Good evening. Team Captain Gwenog Jones will begin proceedings with a short statement, and then we'll hear from the team coordinators. The players will then field questions."

Gwenog stood and took her place at the lectern.

"Right. Hello again. This year sees a number of new faces joining the team, and if they're any good, they might actually get some playing time this season. Which we plan on winning. Thank you."

She made her way back to her seat as the media witch, a resigned look crossing her face, gave an audible sigh.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

Fate, perhaps, is the only explanation I can really give for what happened that Thursday evening.

Too many times we had been dealt the cruelest hand, and paid the price.

So when V dashed in with a piece of parchment clutched in her hand, I knew our luck had changed.

"One of my Unspeakables is undercover with a Hitwizard squadron based in Wales. Julius Creedy has just been spotted. We believe they're going to attack Holyhead."

I froze.

Ginny. It had to be. Thanks to the Sports section of the _Prophet, _I knew they were having a press conference tonight. The Weasleys were Rookwood's next target. And he would strike at the youngest, their only daughter, whilst the media had front row seats.

Part of me was screaming no - that I should be evacuating every single person in Holyhead, with Ginny first to leave.

But another part of me wanted Rookwood dead at my feet.

It was that part of me that won my internal battle.

"I can order an evacuation now. Set up a secure Portkey. Or a Floo line," V suggested.

"No. Let them come."

"Harry, I know that you and Ginny Weasley were involved-"

"She'll be okay," I reasoned. "The Hitwizards will protect her."

V nodded.

"Come with me, we're going down to Intelligence."

I had visited the Intelligence Division a couple of times with X before. The crux of it was a large hall, with cubicles similar in many respects to the Auror Office. Several two-way mirrors were set up around the room. There was a steady stream of chatter, and I reckoned it was easily the noisiest place in the Department of Mysteries. V made her way over to a senior analyst - one who I recognised as having briefed Y and myself on a mission back in January.

"Any further news?"

"Ma'am, we're getting another report through now," he said, pointing towards a piece of parchment placed on his desk.

The parchment glowed blue and a scribbled message appeared.

The Unspeakable's face went white, and he handed the parchment to V.

I had only known her for a short while, but considered her to be the most composed woman I had ever met.

That composure was gone now, as her features betrayed sudden shock and fear.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

"Miss Clarke, you've played professionally in the Oceania League for three years. What are you looking forward to the most about playing in the British and Irish League?"

"The top flight talent that this League attracts. More World Cup players belong to this League than any other. It'll be a great challenge," replied my Australian teammate, on loan for two seasons.

"You bring a Southern Hemisphere style of play to the team. Do you feel it will be well-incorporated into the game plan?"

"Absolutley. I-"

"INFERI! Inferi on the beach!"

Whispers of shock turned into chaos in a matter of seconds.

A woman nearby tried to Apparate, and found she could not.

"We're trapped!" she screamed.

The Hitwizards moved quickly to restore calm.

"QUIET! QUIET!"

"Please remain calm! The Ministry has been notified, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will be arriving with reinforcements momentarily. Once we can break through these wards, we'll evacuate you from the building."

* * *

><p>"I assume you've heard the news?" Kingsley asked Arthur as he dashed into the office.<p>

"Yes. What can you tell me?"

"The Inferi are massing on the beach. Holyhead is under a dark web, with no escape. Can't walk through it, can't Apparate through it either."

"The entire township?"

"Yes. We're working on breaking it, but it's laced with dark magic. And the person we'd ideally want cracking it died in St Mungo's last week."

"How soon can the MLE mobilise?" Arthur asked.

"We've got no contact with the local office, but we have four Hitwizard divisions on site. Every Auror not currently on active duty is heading there."

V entered the room.

"Minister…the Inferi…if not contained-"

"I know. I want you to prepare two Lights for deployment."

"You'd wipe Holyhead out of existence?" Arthur asked, shock in his voice.

"If necessary," Kingsley replied.

"Harry believes he can stop them," V said.

"What is he doing?" Arthur asked.

"He knows about Holyhead. He's already left."

"Alone?"

"Not quite. He said he's bringing an army of his own."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I made my way into the Forbidden Forest once again and traced a well-trodden path into the heart of the woods. I had been running for twenty minutes before I was found.

"Stop, stranger!" a voice cried out.

I paused, breathing heavily, and removed my hood to reveal my face.

"I am Harry Potter, and I need your help."

The centaur gave a curt nod.

"Follow me."

* * *

><p><em>Crack.<em>

I materialised from thin air on the high ridge above the beachfront. The stadium stood proud nearby. I staggered, breathing heavily. Breaking through the ward was one thing, doing it with company was something I hadn't even been sure I was capable of.

Fighting through the exertion, I stood and surveyed the beachfront.

A seething mass of black was emerging from the water, and the stench of rotting flesh filled my nostrils.

The undead walked here tonight, in their thousands.

"…_they fear light and warmth…fire, Harry."_

I recalled Dumbledore's words as I curled my hand around the Elder Wand.

Firenze trotted over to me.

"This is unorthodox, Harry Potter. Many of the herd has never left the Hogwarts grounds, let alone faced such a foe."

I turned to face him.

"You must trust me," I responded grimly, "I can protect them."

Firenze nodded.

Each centaur shimmered with ethereal light as they lined in formation along the edge of the ridge. As one, the centaurs unsheathed their blades. I had never seen one wield a sword before, let alone a hundred. It was an awesome sight.

Another horn blast rang out.

"Ride on my back."

"But-"

"For you, the herd will make an exception. Ride into battle with me, Harry Potter."

I took his proffered hand, and he lifted me with ease onto his back.

"It has been foretold that we would fight as allies against a common enemy. That day has come!" Magorian bellowed, cantering down the line.

"The beasts of Hell await! They threaten our world with vile magic. The very balance of light and dark has shifted. This day, we make it right!" I shouted.

"You have fear, as do I. Let me give you the strength to win this day!"

I waved the Elder Wand down the line, and each Centaur blade burst into blinding white flames.

"Let them burn!"

The herd replied with a deafening roar.

Firenze wheeled around, and I gripped his shoulder to steady myself.

"Are you ready?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," I replied with deadly purpose.

Magorian turned to us, holding his now-flaming sword aloft.

"The stars will talk of this day for centuries to come, Harry Potter."

He dashed a hoof against the earth, pent-up energy gathering inside him.

"CHARGE!" he bellowed, and as one, we descended onto the beach.

The herd fell upon the Inferi like a tidal wave, the inhuman strength of the undead countered by white blades that cleaved through everything they touched.

I propelled myself into the air, using one hand to levitate myself above the masses of Inferi, and unleashed a torrent of livid Fiendfyre with the Elder Wand.

Next to me, Firenze severed a lunging corpse in half with his white blade.

I cast another flamethrower-like burst into the ranks of the undead, their bodies disintegrating under the withering heat of my Fiendfyre curse.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

I watched in stunned disbelief as the centaurs fell upon the Inferi.

A giant tongue of flame grew into the form of a massive Hungarian Horntail that belched a river of flame upon the masses of undead.

The sight took my breath away.

Fiery wings crashed down on the horde as the dragon roared to the heavens, with lethal fire raging through the Inferi ranks.

"Miss Weasley, I need you to stand back from the windows. We don't know what else is out there."

I turned to the Hitwizard.

"Sure."

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for keeping calm. We'll get you out of here as soon as we can. In the meantime, I feel we'll be safer in the stadium than in here. Can we get there?"

"There's a tunnel that runs from the training rooms here to the dressing rooms at the stadium. We can make our way there, and barricade it," Gwenog suggested.

The Hitwizard nodded.

"Lead the way."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

The flaming dragon crashed into the Inferi horde with a billowing explosion of flame. Beads of sweat ran down my face, and each breath I took was laboured from the smoke. The centaurs on my flanks were tiring, more and more were falling prey to the undead. Only a few feet away, a Centaur was pulled apart by the ravenous darkness, kicking wildly as they tore him limb from limb.

With a yell, I directed a raging torrent of flame towards them.

"There are too many, Potter!" Magorian shouted. His blade was moving faster than I could see, but they kept on coming.

"Fall back and regroup!"

The cry went up, and the Centaurs formed a close-knit line in retreat. Fewer than half remained.

I looked at my hands, black with soot and grime. The stench of the dead filled my senses.

I needed more power.

"Get back," I warned the Centaurs.

I launched myself into the air, fifty feet above the wicked horde, and gave silent thanks to Y for teaching me how to levitate myself in combat.

It started as a spark. It then grew in intensity - light and dark, fused into an unstoppable energy.

The combination of the magics of Fiendfyre and the Patronus Charm.

Fiendlight.

A torrent of blazing white fire shot from the Elder Wand into the masses of Inferi below.

Every fibre of my being shook. Sparks of magical energy danced around my body, as the livid maelstrom of magic surged through the ranks of the howling undead like an unstoppable tidal wave.

The exhilarating rush of power flooded my senses.

This, this was magic I had never known I possessed.

I was not tiring - if anything, my strength was only increasing.

I roared at the heavens.

And as the haze cleared and the fire faded away, as I slowly descended to the ground, I truly believed, that if I so desired, I could literally _move_ a mountain.

Firenze and Magorian approached me with something akin to awe on their faces. Only small pockets of Inferi remained, being dealt to by Centaurs with burnishing bright blades.

"The stars foretold that you would be great, Harry Potter," Firenze said with only the slightest hint of a smile. "But I think they didn't quite do you justice."

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your cooperation this evening. I assure you-"

He stopped speaking, as his face contorted grotesquely.

He gave a shudder, and then raised his head with a smirk, his features rearranging.

A murmur of confusion ran through the huddled throng, and then gasps of shock…

…as the man revealed himself to be none other than Augustus Rookwood.

Around the pitch and in the stands, the other Hitwizards were undergoing the same transformation.

"Fuck," I swore. Ron's vocabulary had really rubbed off on me.

"Surrender your wands, or die where you stand."

I inched my hand towards the pocket in my robes.

"I wouldn't."

I stopped, and raised my hands above my head as I felt a wand jab sharply into my neck.

My captor put a hand on my shoulder and shoved me to the front of the group.

"We've got the bitch."

Rookwood's expression widened into a sadistic smirk and he leaned in close to me.

"Ginny. I must say, I wish we could have met under different circumstances. I feel so _horrid. _It really is so _unfortunate _that your brother had to die."

"YOU BASTARD!" I screamed, pulling free of the Death Eater and slapping Rookwood across the face with all my strength.

No sooner had I struck him, I was brought to my knees with a stunning blow to the back of my head.

Rookwood grimaced, rubbing his jaw, and appraised me.

"You will regret that _immensely_. I am going to enjoy breaking you, Miss Weasley."

Black lightning burst from his wand and hit me point blank. I collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain as the dark magic took its toll. Gasping, I coughed blood.

"AUGUSTUS ROOKWOOD!"

My heart leapt in my chest.

I knew that voice. I knew that voice like no other. I knew his whisper, his scream, his assured confidence, his inspiring cadence.

I knew that voice.

"Impossible!" Rookwood spat, his eyes wide with disbelief as Harry descended into the stadium.

He looked different, older, more assured. But there was no mistaking the jet-black hair, the steely green gaze, or the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

Harry had returned.

"FACE ME!"

Sparks of magical energy discharged around him, and my senses were flooded with the sheer presence of his power.

If Rookwood felt any fear, he did not let it show.

"So be it," Rookwood said quietly, before his voice became a howl. "Kill him!"

And then the battle was underway with a vengeance.

One Death Eater raised his wand, only to find that Harry had torn it from his grasp, and blasted his wand arm clean off in a sweeping double movement.

Another was thrown through the air as Harry unleashed a series of complicated wand flicks, almost too fast for the eye to follow.

A third Death Eater had grabbed one of the Harpies coaches, and was holding her at wandpoint.

Effortlessly, Harry levitated the Death Eater by his ankle, and flung him into the path of an oncoming Killing Curse.

Harry moved impossibly.

In this close-quarter combat, nothing could stop him.

The Death Eaters he faced were not being defeated.

They were being _decimated_.

With a sharp, sudden flick of the Elder Wand, Harry cast an unseen curse that sliced a black-robed figure _straight down the middle_. His body fell apart in a gruesome manner.

Another one succumbed to a series of fist sized holes blown right through his chest.

All around me, people were screaming in terror as the battle raged on in their midst.

A green jet passed inches from Harry's face.

Harry paused for only the briefest second to send a Killing Curse back in return.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

An awesome jet of green light exploded from the Elder Wand, blasting into the Death Eater.

Harry didn't even stop to watch the man crumple, instead turning again to cast black lightning at yet another assailant, parrying curse for curse.

Harry raised a shimmering blue shield to block a spell, then reached out with his hand and made a twisting motion.

The Death Eater's neck snapped and he collapsed as Harry sidestepped to avoid a Killing Curse, before firing back two green jets of his own.

His expression set with hawk-like focus, Harry duelled methodically, with absolute precision.

A jinx landed nearby me, and I turned to see another face.

A Death Eater leered at me with stained teeth. With a malicious gleam in his eye, the Dark wizard pointed his wand at me.

I was defenceless.

_Crucio._

My vision blurred as every nerve in my body screamed.

_Expelliarmus!_

The cruelty on my attacker's face turned to shock as his wand was ripped out of his hand. A second later, his legs buckled beneath him as he cried out in sudden pain.

When my sight refocused, I dimly noticed Aurors and Hitwizards pouring onto the pitch, and red jets of light flying everywhere. My attacker was on his knees, held in a headlock by another figure.

And a wand was pointed into his right ear.

The new figure, his face obscured by shadow and smoke, spoke a single word.

_Crucio._

The voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking it.

It was him.

It was Harry.

The shock of my sudden realisation was broken by the screams of my attacker. The yell that came from his mouth was unearthly. Desperate hands clawed at the arm around his neck. His feet struck at the ground, gouging into the grass as his legs wildly kicked about, much like a man on the hangman's noose.

From the ground, I stared up at the gruesome scene in pure horror. This was the stuff of nightmares.

His chest heaved, and a fountain of blood exploded from his mouth, running down his front, to mix with the trickle of urine that ran down the inside of his legs. Then, with a hideous _pop, _his right eye burst in its socket.

His face was coloured a sickly red, and the veins that stood out in stark relief to his mottled skin looked as if they were about to burst. I didn't understand how he was still alive.

It was too much.

"Stop it, Harry, stop it!"

He didn't answer.

He didn't even look at me.

He didn't stop.

Spasms shot through the man's body, and a bloody brown fluid was running from his nostrils. The howl had become a warped shriek that cut through the air like a knife.

I plastered my hands to my ears, and closed my eyes. I could still hear the muffled thumps as the Death Eater struggled in his death throes.

And then it was over. One last _thump, _and he fell to the floor.

"Ginny, open your eyes."

Tentatively, I inched my eyelids apart.

Harry had come into the light, and the haze had cleared some more. There were long gashes on his left arm, and his sleeves were soaked in sticky wet blood.

With one eye, the corpse on the floor stared ahead, straight at me. His face was hardly recognisable.

I began to rise from the floor, then vomited. Harry was there in a flash, a hand on my waist and the other sweeping the hair from my face.

"Breathe, Ginny," he said, soothingly. "It's okay, now. I'm here."

Something inside me snapped.

"Stop!" I said, jolting away from his touch.

He retracted his hands, as if he was stung.

I looked at him, shocked. How could he pretend that it was okay? After what I'd just seen him do?

"You're not you," I whispered.

"What?" he replied, puzzled.

That he didn't understand made it worse.

"You…you're not you. Not Harry, not my Harry. What are you? What have you become?"

"I'm still me!"

"You're not…you, you just _Crucioed _that man to death! How could you?"

"He attacked you!"

"I don't care…you didn't have to do…"

A flicker of anger crossed his face.

"Ginny, they were coming to kill you! You don't know what they planned!"

He closed his mouth too quickly, like he'd said something he hadn't meant to. Then it hit me. I suddenly understood. He had known about the attack. He knew that the Death Eaters, in one final ploy, had decided to target me.

He'd used me as _bait_.

"But you did," I said.

"What?"

"You knew…you knew that they were going to attack the Press Conference! You knew…and you let them."

Rather than argue, he bowed his head.

"You have to understand, Ginny-"

I didn't want to understand. I couldn't.

"Get away from me!"

"Ginny!"

"No, I…get away from me! It doesn't matter…I don't care what kind of excuse…we're done, Harry! We're done!"

Shock filled his eyes. He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted.

"Harry Potter, we've got orders to take you in."

No fewer than six Aurors surrounded us, their wands all trained on Harry. All around us, MLE officials were detaining the Death Eaters who had survived Harry's onslaught and tending to the hostages.

"You're wanted for questioning in relation to the secret Operation Wrath of Merlin," said another Auror.

"Now, stand slowly."

Harry did so.

"You'll need to surrender your wand, Mr Potter."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, gentlemen," Harry said quietly, his face a grim mask.

"If you don't comply-"

"Merlin, is that…it is! It's him! It's Harry Potter!" yelled a reporter.

Harry whipped his head to the right, alarmed.

_Flash. Flash flash. Flash._

Cameras went off in every direction.

_Flash._

"Harry, Harry!"

"Mr Potter, put your wand down! This is your last chance!" shouted the Auror.

Harry looked at me, his eyes filled with an unreadable emotion. I met his gaze for only a moment before tearing my eyes away.

Suddenly, a brilliant burst of white light exploded around us, and when my vision cleared, Harry was gone.

"Harry Potter has escaped. Secure the perimeter," the lead Auror spoke with resignation in his voice.

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks to all those who review - as always I very much appreciate it - and please continue to let me know what you think!


	21. The Master of Death

A/N: The longest chapter yet, and I daresay I'm rather pleased with it. Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>XIX. The Master of Death<strong>

Rookwood reeled as a magically hardened fist slammed into the side of his head.

"Not so fucking smug now, are ye?"

Another blow hit him in the stomach, and he doubled over.

"Stop it!" barked a new voice.

"I don't want anything he can use against us," Kingsley said to the group of Aurors, before turning to Rookwood, bloody and beaten.

"We got you, you bastard."

Behind his bloodied face, Rookwood merely offered a smirk.

Kingsley made a noise of disgust.

"Process him," he instructed, turning away.

"You might as well get it over and done with now, Minister. A quick Avada Kedavra. Or would you rather Harry Potter did it? Tell me, Minister, where is he? I'm sure your Aurors would like to know."

Kingsley spun on his heel, drawing his wand as he did so, and pointed it directly between the Death Eater's eyes.

"Merlin knows I don't need a reason," he said bitterly.

"So the lion finally bears teeth."

Kingsley's answering Stunner blew Rookwood across the room.

"Take him to the Auror Office. I want four of you on him at all times. And I suggest you Obliviate the last five minutes from his memory."

"Of course sir."

Kingsley nodded and began to leave.

"Minister?

"Yes?" Kingsley paused mid-stride.

"It's good to have you back."

* * *

><p>A few minutes later, Kingsley arrived back in his office.<p>

In front of him, the _Daily Prophet_ flashed, and suddenly, a new article covered the front page:

_BREAKING: HOLYHEAD ATTACKED BY INFERI; ROOKWOOD CAPTURED; OPERATION WRATH OF MERLIN IS REAL_

_Late on Thursday night, terror struck the small town of Holyhead as a horde of Inferi, not seen since You-Know-Who still walked this earth, descended on the coast._

_Tragedy seemed certain, until a lone wizard defended the beach with Fiendfyre, driving back the undead summoned by the Death Eaters of Augustus Rookwood._

_The Prophet can reveal that this wizard was none other than Harry Potter. _

_Further evidence is now coming to light of a top-secret mission, answering only to the Minister himself, that was dedicated to the covert assassinations of Dark wizards and supporters of Voldemort._

_This mission, dubbed Operation Wrath of Merlin, counted Harry Potter amongst its ranks._

_The Prophet understands that the Operation had an unlimited, black budget and officially did not exist, leaving no paper trail of its actions. Appropriately, it was headquartered in the Department of Mysteries, but most other Unspeakables within the Department were not aware of the Operation._

_Early estimates claim that Wrath of Merlin was responsible for the unsanctioned and unauthorised deaths of close to four hundred people, including at least two hundred marked and unmarked Death Eaters who had evaded capture or had not participated in the Battle of Hogwarts._

_Hermione Granger - a close personal friend of Mr Potter - spoke to the Prophet late last night, in which she confirmed her suspicions about the actions of The Boy Who Lived:_

"_There was never enough evidence until now - and eyewitnesses from earlier incidents were almost always Obliviated, as I understand, but now, there is nowhere left to hide. Harry was part of this Operation from the very beginning."_

And then further down the page:

MINISTER SHACKLEBOLT IMPLICATED IN BLACK-OPS MISSION

_The Minister for Magic, who insisted time and time again that Operation Wrath of Merlin did not exist, was caught red-faced yesterday when Harry Potter killed fourteen Death Eaters in plain sight during a horrific battle within Holyhead Stadium._

_Senior Wizengamot councillors could not be reached for comment at this late - or rather - early hour, but we have no doubt a formal hearing will take place in the next few days._

Kingsley slammed the paper down. No doubt the same article would appear in the morning's post. By that time, the whole paper would be a Special Edition, devoted to the dual task of celebrating the return of the conquering hero, and vilifying the Minister who let him do it.

Kingsley ran a hand over his scalp in frustration.

"Fucking reporters!"

"Sorry about that."

Kingsley jumped out of his chair as Harry stepped out of the shadows, pulling his Invisibility Cloak off his shoulders.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"Every person in the MLE is looking for you, and you decide to stroll on into my office," Kingsley recovered.

"I like to live dangerously. What now, Kingsley?"

"We're done. Wrath of Merlin is done. No fewer than six different Councillors serving on the Wizengamot are planning on delivering Arthur and myself summons for a special hearing. This was a risk I was prepared to take when the Operation began."

"How did you think it would end?"

"Eventually you'd run out of bodies, Harry," Kingsley said quietly. "And then we would've closed it down. You would rejoin the world - we'd invent some excuse for your absence - and no one would be the wiser. No one would know the terrible truth."

"But the truth is out."

"That it is," said Kingsley, standing and walking over to a side cabinet. He uncorked a bottle of Firewhiskey, and poured a measure into three glasses.

He handed one to me, and sipped at the second himself.

"Is Arthur coming?" I asked, puzzled by the third glass.

The fireplace in Kingsley's office suddenly flared up, and a distinguished looking wizard with a grey beard stepped out of the flames.

"Impeccable timing, as per usual," Kingsley remarked, handing the man the third glass.

"Harry, I want you to meet Magnus O'Brien."

"Good evening, Mr Potter," he greeted, before shooting a reproachful look at Kingsley. "Or should I say morning."

I shook the wizard's proffered hand.

"I served on the Wizengamot with your grandfather. The loss of the Potters was a loss to us all."

"I mean no disrespect, Councillor, but what use are you to me?" I asked curtly.

O'Brien chuckled.

"The young man has teeth," he remarked to Kingsley, before turning back to me. "Good. In the coming days, you will need them."

"Magnus has served on the Wizengamot for over half a century, Harry. He's a Senior Warlock, not a Councillor, and happens to be the most preeminent legal mind in the wizarding world. They say half of our law was written by Dumbledore, but you often don't hear about who wrote the other half."

"You give me too much credit, Kingsley."

"What did you do in the war?" I asked quietly.

"I endured, Mr Potter."

My impression of O'Brien had not improved.

"You may not think much of that answer. But even heroes need lawyers. When you want to get away with something, Mr Potter, you're best to deal with someone who makes it their business to get away with things," Magnus said with a wry smile.

I nodded. Here was a man who was in a position to help me. I recalled X's lesson:

_Head over heart. In battle, you cannot allow your passion to rule your reason._

"Apologies."

"No offence taken, Mr Potter," Magnus replied, studying me acutely.

"What do we do, Magnus?" Kingsley asked.

"Tell me about Wrath of Merlin, Harry," Magnus asked me. "I have, of course, known about the Operation since your initial disappearance, but I should like to hear your take on your own experiences."

So I talked of my involvement, of my training with X and Y, the initial missions, and then that fateful night when I took my vengeance on the Death Eaters who had attacked the orphanage. I told him of Paris, and Y's death, and then my imprisonment in the Pit. I spoke of my escape from that hell, and then the assault on Holyhead, and the battle with the Inferi and the Death Eaters.

Magnus appraised me for a full minute after I finished. It was unnerving. Finally, he spoke:

"You're going to turn yourself in."

"What?"

"Turn yourself in to the Auror Office."

"Why?"

"Because it will do two things, Harry. Firstly, it demonstrates that you do not consider yourself above the law, and secondly, the public will love you for it."

"You have done things, that under wizarding law, are simply illegal. As it was not founded with a Wizengamot mandate, Operation Wrath of Merlin itself was illegal."

"Then I'll be imprisoned!"

"Do not be silly, Harry. Short of killing innocent people, do you really think that _you_, of all people, would be found guilty? I can appreciate that you have no love for the Wizengamot, Harry, but we are not stupid. Can you imagine the public uproar if we put you in Azkaban?

"Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom - just three amongst a thousand who would storm the island itself to free you! They do not know where you are or what you've been up to - although from the looks of things, Miss Granger has a fairly good idea. They are still your friends, Harry. The sacrifices you have already made excuse any transgressions you've made in the last year."

"You agree with him?" I asked Kingsley.

"I do."

"I'll do it."

"There is another matter."

"What?"

"Your wand."

My fingers curled around the Elder core.

"If you think -"

"No," Magnus replied. "I do not wish to ever touch it."

"I don't believe you."

"You were able to resist it before. You are hardly the only one. My point is, before you hand yourself over to the Aurors, you must relinquish it to someone else for safekeeping. Who can you trust to return it to you?"

I thought for a moment, and then gave my answer.

* * *

><p>Neville Longbottom was woken from his sleep by a harsh knock at the door.<p>

He sat up, reacquainting himself with his surroundings. He was still not used to staying at the Auror safehouse, but the Ministry officials had been fairly insistent.

"Come in!"

An Auror Trainee, hardly a year older than himself, entered.

"I'm very sorry Mr Longbottom, but the Minster for Magic would like a word immediately."

"Can't it wait?"

"He was quite insistent."

It seemed that everyone at the Ministry was insistent.

Neville got out of bed, and wrapped himself in a nightrobe.

"What time is it?"

"Close to midnight, I think," the Trainee replied, as they made their way to the fireplace.

"This is a secure Floo line, so it will take a bit longer for you to arrive. Take some powder, and then say 'four-eight-eight-five-one-one-two' - it's a classified code that will take you to your location."

Neville stepped into the fireplace, and a few moments later, he reappeared inside the office of the Minister for Magic.

"Kingsley, I-" he began, then stopped.

"Hi Neville," Harry Potter greeted him.

"Harry…it's you, you're-"

"It's good to see you, Neville."

"Where have you been? Is what they're saying true?"

"I'll explain everything in due course. But I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

Harry held out his wand. Except it wasn't his wand - the one Neville had seen him use countless times in class, or disarm Voldemort with - but rather a different one.

It was the Elder Wand.

"I can't," Neville exclaimed.

"You, of all people can," Harry replied with a small smile. "I trust you to return it to me when I need it again."

* * *

><p>The room inside the vast Department of Magical Law Enforcement was circular, and surrounded a large fire pit. A set of wide stairs descended into the flames.<p>

A group of four Aurors, escorting Rookwood, bound and chained between them, approached.

"We're transferring the prisoner to The Holt. They don't want him interrogated at the Ministry," spoke one of the Aurors.

"Understandable. Stand by."

Three different wizards sprinkled a pinch of different coloured Floo powder into the gaping fire pit, all murmuring under their breath.

"Transfers inbound. The Holt is ready to receive."

The fire flared a shining bright blue as the group walked down the shallow steps. With a sudden flash, they disappeared.

But the group did not reappear at their intended location.

"Right on time, gentlemen," greeted a witch.

"What's the meaning of this?" the lead Auror asked, his hand on his wand.

"You're in the Department of Mysteries. We're taking it from here."

"On what authority?"

"The Minister for Magic," answered the witch.

"He has decided that the Department of Mysteries will undertake his interrogation."

"I've heard nothing from Shacklebolt saying-"

"He instructed me to tell you," she interrupted.

"The prisoner is maximum risk. I'm not handing him over to anyone unless the Minister himself tells me."

"Suit yourself," she replied. "_Imperio!"_

With a series of red flashes, her Unspeakables rendered the other Aurors unconscious.

"You will not tell anyone of this," she instructed.

The Auror nodded.

"You have supervised the transfer of Augustus Rookwood to The Holt."

The Auror gave another mute nod.

"Good. _Stupefy."_

The Auror collapsed to the ground with his colleagues.

"Modify their memories," the witch ordered. "If one of them remembers anything, you will all pay for the mistake with your lives."

The Unspeakables went to work as their leader tapped her wand to Rookwood's throat.

"Speak."

"What took you so long?" Rookwood said hoarsely.

"You've got ten seconds to convince me not to kill you, Augustus," the witch replied, her wand still pointed at his throat.

A slow smirk crossed his battered features.

"I can still get you Ginny Weasley."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I lowered my hood outside the imposing entrance to the Auror Office. The three guards standing at attention stared at me in sudden shock.

"I wish to turn myself in."

The last words had barely left my mouth when three simultaneous Body-Bind spells hit me, and I fell to the floor. Magical irons appeared around my wrists and ankles, glowing an angry red.

I felt dizzy. My magic was being suppressed.

"Check his robes."

One of the Aurors quickly searched my pockets.

"No wand."

"Get him standing."

The Body-Bind was removed, and I was pulled to my feet.

"Mr Potter, per magical warrant you are under arrest for the alleged murder of twelve persons at Holyhead Stadium, and under suspicion for several other incidents. Charges will be formally laid by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You will stand before the Wizengamot for judgement and sentence. You have the right to legal representation and you have the right to request a lawyer at any time, however communications you make whilst in custody will be monitored. You may, by your own volition, submit to the use of Veritaserum. So commands the Law. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"Process him."

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

Wrapped in a warm blanket at an MLE safehouse, I sipped at a mug of hot chocolate.

"How are you feeling, Miss Weasley?" asked the Auror Trainee who had been appointed as my guard.

"Better, now," I said gratefully.

"Good."

"Where are the others?"

Several of my team-mates had been transferred to the safehouse with me, but I hadn't seen any since my arrival.

"They've left for alternate accommodation. They're not considered in the highest priority. You, on the other hand, are."

I didn't like it, but it wasn't like I had a say in the matter. Dad would keep me here until he could be sure I was safe.

I yawned, and glanced at my wristwatch. It had passed midnight.

"Head upstairs and take the second room on the left. It's got the best mattress."

"Sure."

"Oh, Miss Weasley - feel free to say no, but I was just wondering if I could get your autograph?"

I gave him a smile.

"No problem."

He handed me a quill and a napkin, and I scrawled a quick signature.

"I hope Coach starts you next weekend."

"Me too," I replied with another grin.

I headed up the stairs, and collapsed into the soft bed with a groan.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

I was led into a cell, still clad in irons. The thick chains were secured on either wall.

One of the Gaolers placed a golden collar around my neck.

"I wouldn't, if I was you."

"You're a threat."

"I'm also Harry Potter. Can you imagine just how good my lawyers are going to be? Can you imagine what people will say when they hear that Harry Potter was collared like a dog whilst in the custody of the Aurors? Do you think it will create a public uproar? I think it will. And then the Auror Office will have no choice but to look to a scapegoat. Someone must be held accountable. Tell me, do you like your job?"

The Gaoler made a noise of frustration, took the collar off, then stalked away. The cell door clicked shut with a only a slight sound, but it would take much more than a simple _Alohomora_ to open it.

In the cell next to me sat a young woman, surely not much older than myself. She huddled in the corner in a grey blanket, but upon seeing my face, her eyes had grown wide.

"You're Harry Potter."

"Yes," I replied. "What's your name?"

"My name is Anna. Anna Smith."

V had told me that a witch called Anna Smith had helped X before he had died. What were the chances of there being two?

"Why are you here?" I asked, suddenly curious.

"I attacked a man. I hurt him badly, really badly. I'm a Junior Healer, you see. I know how to hurt people."

"Can you remember anything about the man you attacked? What did he look like?"

"I don't know."

I recalled another lesson.

_Constant vigilance._

"Can you look at me?"

She turned and I looked directly into her eyes.

"Relax. This won't hurt."

_Legilimens!_

At once, my Legilimency became a struggle, as the magic of the shackles worked against my power. I gritted my teeth against the pain. I had survived far, far worse.

In her mind, I found her memory. I watched as she struck at a shadowy figure with forbidden black magic. I went deeper, and saw her working at St Mungo's. Reading a book to a young patient. Comforting another after a surgery.

Evidence told me that the girl was guilty. Instinct told me otherwise.

Something was very wrong here.

The pain began to overwhelm me, and I jolted from her mind, gasping with the exertion. The same MLE Gaoler who had collared me dashed back into the room.

"What are you playing at, Potter?"

"This girl is innocent."

"What?"

"I have the right to legal representation, which I can request at any time. I wish to summon Magnus O'Brien."

"Can't promise I'll be able to reach him at this late hour."

A petty man with a small mind. I hid my anger.

"Please. If not O'Brien, then I need to speak to the Aurors on duty."

"I've had enough of your shit, Potter-"

"This might be the most important thing you ever do. Please!"

He walked out and I gave a yell of frustration.

* * *

><p>It had been half an hour since the Gaoler had left. My patience had left a long time ago. Then, I heard the sound of neat footsteps approaching.<p>

A red-robed wizard stood outside the entrance to my cell, a faintly curious expression crossing his features.

"I hear you want to speak to an Auror. You have sixty seconds."

"Where is Augustus Rookwood?" I asked quickly. "Why should I tell you?"

"Look, I appreciate you have no reason to trust me. You know what I've been doing for the last year. But in this, it's us or them. _We are on the same side_. Where is he?"

"Okay. He's at The Holt."

"When was he transferred there?"

"A couple of hours ago."

"How long would it take for you to confirm that he's there?"

"A few minutes. I can talk to the the guards through the Floo line."

"Can you do that? Check that he is there?"

"Why?"

"I don't think he ever arrived."

The Auror's expression grew sceptical.

"If this is some stupid joke, Potter…"

"It's not. I swear to you, I would not ask this if I didn't truly have cause to believe otherwise."

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, the Auror returned, a grim expression plastered on his face. Two other Aurors accompanied him.<p>

"Potter, meet Tiberius Hawke and Siobhán O'Reilly."

"Can they be trusted?"

"Without a doubt."

"How did you know he wasn't at The Holt?" O'Reilly asked.

A wave of relief rushed over me.

"I was right."

"The Aurors who escorted him there insist otherwise," Hawke remarked. "Any ideas?"

"They would if someone had modified their memories," I said, then pointed at Anna. "Just like her."

"You're saying someone accosted four armed Aurors, and modified each memory? Who could do that?" Hawke asked.

"I don't know for certain, but I'm willing to bet they're employed by the Department of Mysteries."

I held my hands out, still bound in chains.

"Release me."

"What?"

"I don't have time for this."

I steeled myself for the rush of pain that was to come. With a burst of magical energy, my shackles snapped apart.

The Aurors had their wands trained at me before I could blink.

"Put them down," I said in disgust. "If I wanted to escape, I already would have."

They grudgingly lowered their wands.

"Now, do you want to get these bastards or do you want to fuck around?"

* * *

><p>We reconvened in one of the briefing rooms in the Auror Office. More Aurors, including some I recognised, like Albion Stark and Proudfoot, arrived.<p>

"We need to inform the Minister's Office," O'Reilly said.

"No," I disagreed.

"Why not?"

"I don't know how high this goes. But someone in the Ministry is working for Rookwood. If they have access to the Minister, then he is in danger. For the moment, his ignorance protects him," I reasoned.

O'Reilly thought for a moment, and then nodded.

"Fine, we do it your way."

I gave her a surprised look.

"I don't trust you. I don't trust the Department of Mysteries. But somehow you knew Rookwood wasn't at The Holt. That gets you some credit, Potter," she replied.

"What's the first move?"

"We've got to find Rockwood. And the spy. But we can't go through the Mysteries Intelligence Division. Chances are it's compromised," I answered.

"Regular MLE channels it is."

"Slow and unreliable at the best of times," I said.

"Cut us some slack Potter. We're hardly operating at peak efficiency here," said Stark, eyeing me suspiciously.

I ran a hand through my hair in frustration.

"Look-"

A pealing chime interrupted me.

Proudfoot pulled a small two-way mirror from his robes, and spoke into it. A moment later, a voice spoke from it:

"Oxford Street has been compromised. We've lost two Trainees."

"Fuck!" exclaimed Proudfoot.

"We took some of the Harpies players there earlier," O'Reilly said.

Not for the first time that night, a chill ran down my spine.

"Who?" I asked.

"Gwenog Jones. The new one from Australia," replied O'Reilly, before her eyes widened in realisation. "And Ginny Weasley."

"Weasley. Is she gone?" Proudfoot asked into the mirror.

"Affirmative. Miss Weasley is not there. She's been taken."

I stood, struggling to contain my anger.

"You put a safehouse on the _busiest street in the world?"_

I slammed my fist down on the table, and a long crack appeared in the surface.

"How soon can we get to the safehouse?"

"Less than five minutes."

"Get a Portkey. Or a Floo. Whatever," I instructed.

The Aurors began to mobilise.

"Oh, one more thing," I said.

"Get me Neville Longbottom."

* * *

><p>We arrived at the Oxford Street safehouse - true to Proudfoot's word - in under five minutes.<p>

I entered to see a group of MLE officials attending to two bodies - the Auror Trainees.

They looked so young.

I made my way upstairs and scanned the room that Ginny had stayed in for the few hours before she had been captured.

There were no signs of a struggle.

"She was likely Stunned in her sleep."

O'Reilly stuck her head around the door.

"Potter, have you seen this?"

I followed her around the corner to see a message written on the wall in blood.

_I OPEN AT THE CLOSE_

I froze, shocked.

Only a handful of people in the world knew about the Snitch and its significance.

Then, I realised.

She wanted the Resurrection Stone.

"I know where they are," I announced.

The Aurors looked at me in shock as I made my way out.

"Where are they?" asked Hawke, hot on my heels as I took the stairs two at a time.

"Scotland."

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

Only a couple of lights shone from the castle when I arrived at Hogwarts with the Aurors and Neville in tow.

I quickly outlined my plan to the group.

"Good luck, Harry," said Neville, clasping my shoulder.

"And to you too. Remember the signal," I replied.

He nodded.

"Potter," O'Reilly called out.

I turned, and she tapped two fingers to her forehead - the Auror's salute. I returned the gesture and she nodded.

No words were needed.

So again, I walked into the Forbidden Forest, following the path that was scarred into my memory. I would remember every step for as long as I lived.

My mind reeled as I went over the events of the last few hours in my mind. For the first time I realised how exhausted I actually was. From the battle with the Inferi, to the Death Eaters in the Stadium, the fight had sapped my strength. And now once again I was walking into a war.

I needed a desk job.

The clearing was approaching. I could sense the sudden absence of life in this small patch of earth, totally devoid of the light. A sinister fog blanketed the clearing.

"He's 'ere!" one of the Death Eaters exclaimed.

Immediately, wands were pointed at me from every direction.

"Do not harm him. Take his wand," instructed a guttural voice.

Hands tore at my robes, searching for any weapons.

"He ain't got one," another reported.

"Smart…or very, very stupid," the guttural voice came through again.

The dark fog was fading away, and a person standing on a mound of raised earth appeared.

"Bring him forwards."

I was roughly shoved in front of their leader, who removed their hood.

And then my worst fears were confirmed.

"You!"

"Me," V replied, with a look of pure sadistic satisfaction covering her features.

"How did you know about the Snitch?" I asked, shocked.

"I was a double agent from the very beginning, Potter."

She spoke with the same guttural tone I had heard earlier.

"How do you think Augustus managed to get his hands on the Nostradamus Light? I couldn't give him the completed work - the Unbreakable Vow would have killed me, but I was able to give him enough to create a replica. How did my Death Eaters get through _dar-jach_ when they attacked the _WWN_ in Diagon Alley? I left a loophole in it, ready to exploit."

"I did not foresee you escaping the Pit. When you did, surely, I thought, you would not prevail against the Inferi. Yet again I was proven wrong."

"You are truly unique. Truly the Dark Lord's equal. But it cannot help you now. You have lost this war, and for that, you will pay the price."

V waved her hand, and the last of the fog swept away to reveal a figure lying prone on the cold ground.

It was Ginny.

A baleful red orb hovered above her comatose body. Bathed in the red light, she somehow still looked deathly pale.

"The Nostradamus Light is going to kill her. Very slowly, and very surely, she is going to die as the magic is leeched from her. You can't imagine the pain she is experiencing. You are not so blinded by your rage that you cannot feel. Much of you reminds me of X and Y, but you are still your own man. You still love her, Harry."

"So knowing that you cannot save the one you love - despite all the power in the world - that is what will hurt you the most," she said, her eyes gleaming. "This was Dumbledore's burden to bear his entire life. It is not a burden you will bear for long, but you too, will die knowing she is dead."

I had a score of wands pointed at me. No Phoenix. No Sword.

"But I am willing to offer you a chance, Harry."

"The Resurrection Stone, in return for the life of the one you love."

"You think you can bring Voldemort back," I said bitterly.

"I know the Stone lies somewhere within the Forbidden Forest. I know that you could find it."

"The Stone won't work that way. Of all the Hallows, it's the most flawed," I replied.

V nodded, almost approvingly. "You're not wrong. But there is other magic - the darkest arts once lost to the ages - that will return the Dark Lord's _power_ to me!"

"We are here because his energy still resides in this clearing. He stood, as I do now, at this very spot. I watched as he killed you. I watched as Narcissa lied to him. She will pay for that betrayal - the Dementor's Kiss, I think," she mused. "Here, the Dark Lord was at his strongest. Here, you died. In that moment, he was unstoppable."

I lifted my head, and spoke a single word:

"No."

She let out a short, barking laugh.

"This clearing is mine, not his. What you don't understand, what you will never understand, is that this clearing was _my _victory," I continued.

V narrowed her eyes, and then gave me a smirk.

"Alright, Potter, say I indulge your delusion. Tell me how."

"Because I chose to come back. I didn't have to, but I did," I replied. "For every move you made, this was one you didn't foresee. By choosing to reckon with me, here, _you've_ lost."

"I don't believe you, Potter. What proof do you have?" she asked.

"The magic in this clearing - the dreaded stench of death…you feel it just as I do, just as any person who has killed would -"

"What's your point?" she interjected

"It's not Voldemort's magic. It's mine."

"You're lying."

"On the first anniversary of the final battle, I came here. It reeked of him, his mark. The disgusting taint of his energy lingered here. I _removed_ it."

"This is the Dark Lord's magic!" she spat, suddenly enraged.

"There's a reason it feels that way. I was the eighth Horcrux. I was the one he never intended to create. When he killed me here, it was not me that died, but that eighth part of him."

"Impossible!"

"Yet here I stand. This place will do _nothing_ for you."

I gave a bitter laugh.

"For all your efforts, for all your scheming, for all the lives you threw away, just for this moment…you didn't account for one crucial thing."

"Death bows to no Master…but me."

I had come to the Forbidden Forest, once again, to face the evil that Voldemort had spawned.

But this time, I had not come without company.

"NOW!" I yelled.

Sure, they weren't X and Y, but I had to hand it to them: the Aurors could bring in the firepower.

The two closest Death Eaters were struck by multiple green jets of light before they could even react.

And then, as cover fire rained down around him, Neville Longbottom sprinted through the clearing, and threw the Elder Wand to me.

I wrapped my hand around the wand and its power joined with my own.

With two quick strikes, I blasted an oncoming Death Eater into pieces. A livid bolt of magical energy cut down two more.

The Aurors were entering the clearing now, engaging in pitched battle with the Death Eaters.

And then there he was.

Rookwood.

Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

Bolts of dark energy erupted around us as we duelled, both desperately trying to gain the upper hand. For every curse cast, there was an answer. I countered. He parried.

I unleashed a wave of livid fire, and he shielded himself against it with a blue aura.

He unleashed a series of complicated wand strokes, launching a stream of curses. I parried, blocking several, but two caught my shoulder, leaving a deep jagged cut.

I gritted my teeth, blocking out the sharp pain, and sent a blasting spell that had him stumbling.

He was mine.

I shot a jet of purple light that collided into his chest. He doubled over, desperately trying to shelf my next curse.

It didn't work.

I shattered the bones in his wand arm, and he screamed. With two more flicks, I destroyed his kneecaps. They shatter with sharp cracks.

With another strike, I cut him open from shoulder to waist, before unleashing a curling blue flame that set alight inside his chest. He writhed in agony on the dead earth.

"This is for Fred."

A brilliant white bolt of light exploded from my wand, and blew a gaping hole through his head as the flames engulfed him.

Augustus Rookwood was no more.

With the Elder Wand, I was once again the Master of Death.

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the clearing, and sent me tumbling to the ground.

Black magic convulsed around me as I returned to my feet to face V.

She had the same ferocity as X and Y, and not an ounce of restraint.

A livid tongue of dark energy shot out at me, and I countered with a torrent of golden light that blasted from the Elder Wand like a shotgun.

Like my duel with Rookwood, for every curse of mine, she had an answer. She launched a flurry of purple hexes at me, and I dodged to avoid them. Two more curses followed. I shielded against the first, but the second curse slashed across my leg, creating a vicious wound. I yelled in pain, and threw up a shield to block V's next hex.

A stream of blood was gushing from the wound, and then a stabbing pain blossomed in my thigh as the dark magic began to dissolve the flesh around the wound. I fell to my knees with another cry of agony.

Black spots appeared before my eyes. If the pain continued, I was going to pass out.

I clenched my teeth together, and ignited the tip of my wand with Fiendfyre. Steadying my hand, I plunged it into my leg, cauterising the wound instantly.

The stench of seared flesh filled my senses, and I retched violently.

V watched with sadistic amusement.

"I don't suppose you'd like to try that again, Potter?"

"Get fucked, bitch."

Like a machine gun, bolts of light fired from my wand in rapid succession, and V was driven back against my new onslaught.

With a yell, she riposted with black lightning. I cast inky black lightning to meet her own. Shards of dark energy, each fatal, passed mere inches from both our faces.

V launched a rushing torrent of Fiendfyre at me. I gestured with my left hand, and brought the lethal tongue of flame under control, reducing it to a mere spark, before relaunching it back at her.

She too, dispelled the flames, angry that I had countered even this.

"You can't win, Potter! Every moment you delay, she comes closer to death!"

Her words jolted my rage.

"ENOUGH!"

My body shook with magical energy and my effort to contain it. I launched a barrage of blazing light that drove V backwards. For the first time, I had the advantage. With the Elder Wand, I drew a circle of blindingly bright magical energy.

Brilliant white light exploded from the glowing circle and blasted through her like a force of nature, brushing aside her shield as if if didn't exist.

When the haze cleared, she was struggling to stand.

"That was for X. This is for Y."

I shot a bolt of vicious red lightning that engulfed her, and she fell to the ground again, writhing about as the dark magic charged through her body.

With two quick stabs of my wand, I broke her wand hand and burst her right elbow. She gave a hoarse cry of pain, and coughed blood.

"Potter…"

Her breathing came in laboured gasps, but there was a triumphant gleam in her crazed eyes.

"Just as he split his soul seven ways, to create his intended seven Horcuxes, he entrusted seven of his most loyal to protect his legacy. Severus Snape betrayed us, and another three died in the Battle of Hogwarts. Leaving me…and two more," she whispered.

"The last two...they will hide away for years. You may never find them, but from them you cannot hide."

"You don't think I can stop you?" I asked grimly. "Tell me who they are!"

I poured magical energy into her wounds. I could not interrogate the dead.

"You cannot save me for your torture, Potter," she replied, even as my magic worked to expel the darkness killing her.

A thin trickle of blood ran from her nostrils, and she bared her teeth in a final gesture of defiance.

"It is my will to die."

Her left arm shakily rose from her side, as if by its own volition, and her hand formed a claw surrounded by a black aura.

I realised too late.

The claw-like hand plunged _through_ her chest and pierced her heart as she gave a final, grotesque scream.

* * *

><p>AN: And you thought _last_ chapter was top gear…

Please let me know what you think!


	22. What Kind of Day Has It Been?

A/N: You can thank the fact that I'm on holidays for these fast updates! Enjoy.  
><strong><br>**

* * *

><p><strong>XXII. What Kind Of Day Has It Been?<strong>

"Scarce heard amidst the guns below,  
>We are the Dead; short days ago<br>We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset grow -  
>Loved and were loved, and now we lie,<br>In Flanders Fields."

_Harry_

Through the chaos of the battle, a single thought suddenly resurfaced, flooding my senses.

Ginny.

She was dying.

I got to my feet, gritting my teeth against the pain from my burning leg, and stumbled to where she lay. Two Aurors were already there.

"We can't stop it, Potter. It's killing her."

The Nostradamus Light hovered above her body like a leech, giving off a foul, pulsating glow. Ginny's face was drawn and her eyes, eerily open, looked devoid of anything.

I had nothing. I had no one to give me an answer. I didn't know how I had overcome the effects of the Light whilst in the Pit.

I couldn't save her.

_It is the magic against magic itself. The perfect weapon._

I recalled V's words.

_There is no spell, no curse, no charm that can destroy the Light._

But perhaps there was.

"Get back," I instructed the Aurors. "Cast your strongest shields."

Magical energy crackled through the air as they complied.

I clenched the Elder Wand in my fist. A lesser wand would fail. But with the Elder Wand I had a chance.

Fiendfyre and the Patronus Charm, the dark and the light, but both unrelenting magic. Unified, I had used them to destroy the Inferi horde.

A tonuge of Fiendfyre sparked into life from the tip of my wand, leaping about, feeding off my doubt, my uncertainty, my fear.

X's words came to me.

_Control it._

"Expecto Patronum," I whispered.

The flame steadied, and grew.

"Expecto Patronum!" I said, emboldened.

The tongue of flame brightened to an intense, blinding white light. The same power that I had felt at Holyhead flooded through me again. The pain of my wounds had faded away.

I pointed my wand at the Nostradamus Light.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

My eyes closed shut as pure magical energy - bright as the midday sun - exploded through the clearing. I could not see it, but I could feel the Nostradamus Light fighting against me. It was not an evil magic, but rather a vast empty void with an insatiable hunger.

My body shook as bolts of energy coalesced around me. This power I had somehow brought to being was not something I could sustain for long.

The empty void grew wider, threatening to engulf me as the power of the Nostradamus Light encircled me.

And in that void, I gave a yell of defiance, and struck back at the emptiness, again and again and again.

Magical energy clashed in a gargantuan struggle.

Once more, I gave cry.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The titanic energies had reached a critical point.

I faced the cold void, and released the last of my control.

The result was cataclysmic. Bright energy exploded in every direction as I expelled what was left of my strength. An unearthly shriek filled my senses as the void was torn apart.

I opened my eyes. The bright light was fading away.

The furious energy was gone, and the renewed power I felt gone too. The pain of battle blossomed anew, and this time, my fatigue was total.

But I was victorious. The Nostradamus Light was no more.

Only pale moonlight remained.

I knelt next to Ginny, and lifted her head, brushing back the hair from her face.

"Come on. Wake up, Ginny."

Around us, the Aurors were returning to their feet. I could hear the bark of sharp orders.

"Wake up."

She gave a sudden gasp, and I saw the light return to her eyes, before exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I fell to the ground beside her.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

The early light of dawn was coming across the horizon when I excused myself from the care of the Healers in the Hospital Wing, and went down to sit by the Lake.

After two days recovering in the Hospital Wing, I felt stronger than I had in a long time. My magical energy had an edge to it that was more refined, more charged.

The Healers had said that it was Harry's own magic flowing through me, replenishing what the Nostradamus Light had taken from me.

Harry too, had recovered, although he was still using a crutch to support his leg.

As if on cue, I heard quiet footsteps.

It was him.

"Ginny…can I sit?" I nodded.

He sat beside me gingerly, careful not to place too much pressure on his injured limb.

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay. Strong, actually."

"You can't tell anyone that the Nostradamus Lights exist, Ginny."

"Only if they're destroyed," I replied bitterly.

"They're going to be. And soon. You have my word."

I knew he wasn't lying.

"You didn't come here just to tell me that."

"No," he admitted. "I didn't."

"You know, a decent part of me wants to hex you into the middle of next year."

"I know. I'm in awe of your self-restraint."

I shot him a look and the smile disappeared from his face.

"The way you left me…that hurt, Harry. More than anything."

He gave a frustrated sigh.

"What can I do, Ginny? All I can say is I'm sorry. I left because I wanted you to be safe."

"How many did you kill, Harry?"

"It's not something I'd like to share."

"How can you expect me to understand, to think that it's okay for you to murder so many people?"

"You didn't have a problem with me killing Voldemort. What's different between that and bringing any of his Death Eaters to justice?"

"It's not…you tortured that man to death, Harry! You could've used a Killing Curse, but you didn't. Why did you have to kill him like that?

"I was so scared, that I lost control. I lost control, Ginny. I lost myself, because I thought I was going to lose you."

"That's what terrifies me, Harry," I replied quietly.

"I was blinded by purpose. When I was in the Pit, all the good was stripped from me. I heard my mother die - over, and over again, until it became endless. Vengeance, I think, kept me sane," he said. "When I left Azkaban, I wasn't myself. All I could think of was Rookwood's threat - that he was going to go after you."

"You used Dark Magic," I said accusingly.

"As a means to an end. Not because I enjoy it. I'm not that person. Not anymore."

"I remember the first time I kissed you. I remember this - the days by the lake when we were together, so long ago. I remember the way you held me after the Final Battle. I remember the girl who put her elbow in the butter…and the same one that caught the Golden Snitch. I remember us, Ginny."

"For a time I forgot. I won't deny it. But I remember it now," he said, looking into my eyes.

I could not see the darkness behind those brilliant emerald eyes. But I knew it still lingered, and that was something that would take longer to accept. I didn't know if I ever would.

"I'm going to need some time, Harry."

"How long?"

"I don't know. I really don't know."

"Wrath of Merlin is over."

"It's not about that…I mean, it is, but it's only part of it. We can't be together Harry."

"But with time then?"

I didn't reply straight away. He wouldn't like the answer anymore than I did. I wasn't being vague on purpose, but I had to work this out for myself. By myself.

"I just don't know."

He ran a hand through his hair in the same way I had seen his father do it in photographs. When he replied, I could hear the resignation in his voice.

"Okay."

He gave my hand a squeeze, then stood slowly. He took two steps towards the water, turned to give me a small half-smile, and then disappeared with a _crack_.

* * *

><p>Kingsley Shacklebolt made his way through the throng of reporters and blinding camera flashes to take his seat next to Arthur Weasley before the Wizengamot.<p>

It had been one hell of a week. The _Daily Prophet_ had run wall-to-wall coverage of what they were calling 'Merlingate' every day since the attack on Holyhead. They knew nothing of V, or the mess in the Forbidden Forest, but that was little to be thankful for. The press had plenty of meat to chew on.

In a bitter display of resentment, several high ranking MLE officials had denounced Kingsley's actions just this morning, stating that the Department of Mysteries had no stake in national security.

The Department of Mysteries had declined to comment.

The wizard presiding over the hearing stood, and made a gesture for silence. Charles Magellan was not necessarily a friend of Kingsley's, but then again, he wasn't necessarily an enemy. He would vote according to his principles, and his alone.

"Today, the Wizengamot will hear testimony from Minister Shacklebolt and Deputy Minister Weasley on the covert Operation Wrath of Merlin," Magellan stated in a booming voice. "Myself, along with Senior Warlocks Shaw and O'Brien will lead questioning. Gentlemen, you may begin when ready."

"Minister Shacklebolt, please tell me: does Operation Wrath of Merlin exist?" Shaw asked.

"Yes."

"The _Daily Prophet_ alleges that this Operation's key purpose was to hunt down Dark Wizards and supporters of Voldemort. Is that allegation correct?" O'Brien queried.

"Yes."

"Thank you, Minister. Where was Wrath of Merlin based?"

"In the Department of Mysteries."

"Were any branches of Magical Law Enforcement involved?" Magellan asked.

"No."

"Not even the Auror Office?"

"No."

"Did any member of Magical Law Enforcement have knowledge of the Operation?"

"No."

"Minister, you have the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement at your disposal. Why create a secret group to do the job that many here would agree belongs to the Auror Office?"

"The Auror Office and the wider MLE lacked the operational efficiency we believed necessary for Wrath of Merlin," Kingsley replied.

"By which you mean you didn't want to use a group publicly accountable and bound by law!" said Shaw, his voice raised.

"Your words, not mine, Councillor," Kingsley replied nonchalantly.

"Duly noted, Minister," Shaw said frostily.

"Deputy Minister, the next question I have is for you. Why did you endorse and become involved in Operation Wrath of Merlin?" asked O'Brien.

"I was convinced that the threat to Wizarding Britain was still severe. I felt that Minister Shacklebolt's proposal for Wrath of Merlin was the best response to that threat."

"You have publicly expressed your desire for a more open and transparent government, yet you supported this operation. Does that strike you as hypocritical, Minister?" asked Magellan.

"I fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. I lost a son," Arthur replied. "In the aftermath, we needed safety. And we needed justice. So no, it doesn't."

"You've both mentioned the immediate threat to the nation after Voldemort's downfall at Hogwarts," O'Brien asked. "Can you elaborate on that threat?"

"The Department of Mysteries estimated that at least one-third of Voldemort's core force went into hiding after his death at the hands of Harry Potter. They remained faithful to Voldemort. Whilst they were split into various factions, they represented a considerable threat. Every single act of terror in the last year was perpetrated by these Death Eaters."

"Minister, including yourself and the Deputy Minister, how many people were involved in Wrath of Merlin?" O'Brien asked.

"Five, initially, with support from various divisions within the Department of Mysteries."

"Could you name the Mysteries personnel directly involved in the Operation?" said Shaw.

"Their true names are codeword classified. They went by the monikers X and Y."

"Went?"

"Both are deceased."

"In combat?"

"Yes."

"You gave only two names, yet you mentioned there were five of you. Minister, you are missing one person."

"You want to know if Harry Potter was involved in Wrath of Merlin," Kingsley continued.

There was a distinct pause. The Chamber was deathly silent.

"Fuck it," said Kingsley, sending the press pack scrambling for their censors.

"The answer is yes…"

"…Harry Potter was a member of Operation Wrath of Merlin."

The Chamber erupted into chaos.

Cries rang out from the galleries above the Chamber. The _WWN_ and _Prophet _reporters went mental. Councillors turned to shout at each other and Kingsley.

"ORDER! ORDER!" shouted Magellan above the fray.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

I had not intended to come, but Hermione had insisted. My trusty excuse - Quidditch - had failed me. Our preseason had been delayed whilst Holyhead Stadium remained an active crime scene.

So it was thanks to my brother's girlfriend that I found myself sitting high above the Wizengamot Chamber, crammed in elbow-to-elbow with at least a hundred other people whilst absolute chaos reigned below.

The wizard presiding over the hearings - Magellan, Hermione had called him - rose to his feet and brandished his wand. With an ear-splitting whiplike _crack, _the Chamber quietened down. With a nod, the questioning resumed.

"Minister, I want to discuss the nature of the missions you carried out as part of Operation Wrath of Merlin. You affirmed that the primary purpose of the mission was to hunt down wizards."

"The primary purpose of Operation Wrath of Merlin was to protect the people of Wizarding Britain," Kingsley replied, his voice clear.

"Good answer," murmured Hermione.

"Nevertheless, that involved hunting down dark wizards and witches, did it not?" asked Shaw.

"It did."

"What happened to those apprehended by the Operation?"

"Most were killed on sight."

"Most?" pressed Shaw

"Some were not."

"Were targets ever interrogated through methods not condoned by the MLE?"

"Yes."

More gasps made their way around the chamber.

"Councillors, I would table this particular line of questioning in the interests of national security," said O'Brien, standing. "It is not a matter for an Open Chamber."

"Agreed," said Magellan.

The three Senior Warlocks conferred briefly in hushed tones.

Shaw stood.

"Assembled Councillors, we have heard today from these two men a tale that constitutes nothing less than a flagrant violation of the trust we have placed in their leadership!"

"When faced with the truth, the Minister flatly denied all knowledge of Harry Potter's whereabouts and Operation Wrath of Merlin. He kept up this lie for weeks, knowingly and deliberately misleading the Wizarding Public."

"I move for a vote of no confidence in the leadership of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley."

"Is the motion seconded?" O'Brien asked.

"Aye," answered Magellan. He too, stood.

"So be it. The Wizengamot will reconvene in two hours. As is customary, closing arguments will be made and a vote will be taken."

"What happens if the vote passes?" I asked Hermione.

"Kingsley and your Dad will be banished from office. They could then face trial," she replied, her face grim.

We watched as the members of the Wizengamot slowly filed out the double doors in the Chamber.

"What will they do?" I asked.

"They'll decide which way to vote. Councillors loyal to both Kingsley and Shaw will attempt to sway the undecideds and the independents," Hermione explained.

* * *

><p><em>Harry<em>

"They're killing us!" Kingsley exclaimed.

"Shaw is firmly against you, Minister. Magellan less so, but as a stickler for protocol, it's not difficult to see why he seconds Shaw," O'Brien remarked.

We had returned to Kingsley's office. A flurry of paper planes filled the air as both our side and Shaw's sought to win over undecideds or convince Councillors to change their loyalties reached fever pitch.

An out-of-breath secretary handed a sheet of parchment to O'Brien, who scanned it quickly, before handing it to Arthur.

The Warlock raised his wand, and a series of glowing names appeared in the air, floating underneath two signs stating 'AYE' and 'NAY'. With another flick of his wand, the names separated to either side. There were a noticeably greater number of 'AYE' votes.

"These are the projections based on what the secretaries are negotiating between the Councillors," O'Brien explained for my benefit.

"Can't the Councillors just talk to each other directly?"

"I suppose so, but then our secretaries would feel undervalued and resign en masse."

As if on cue, an undersecretary rushed into the office, and handed O'Brien a scrap of parchment.

"Greengrass is open to an offer."

"I'll back his proposals on the trade negotiations with Germany. No guarantees though. He won't get a better offer from Shaw."

"Kingsley, those proposals will ruin -" Arthur protested.

"They can be countered by the tax incentive we're putting in place to support the Diagon Alley Business Association," Kingsley replied smoothly.

I realised then, how Operation Wrath of Merlin was only a small part of Kingsley did as Minister, and wondered how he got any sleep.

"Which will sway Jones and his lot," added O'Brien.

"Is this vote even going to be about Wrath of Merlin?"

Kingsley and Magnus shot me an identical wolfish grin. Arthur's expression was one of bemusement.

"With any luck, Harry, not at all."

* * *

><p>A few more glowing names switched sides, and a third group appeared under a new heading: 'UNDECIDED'<p>

"You're going to lose a lot of political capital, Kingsley."

"We're gaining conservatives though."

"And losing a liberal for each we gain," Arthur pointed out.

"They'll come back, or abstain. Remind them of Shaw's record. They won't go so easily to his side then."

A flurry of paper planes shot into the office, followed by three more secretaries.

"We've got Lyman and the Northern Irish delegation," O'Brien added.

"We don't have much longer," Arthur said, checking his wristwatch.

"Let me speak," I said.

The three men all looked at me in surprise.

"They'll listen to me. If the Boy-Who-Lived is on your side, they won't vote against you."

"You can still escape unscathed, Harry. The MLE have dropped proceedings against you based on your actions against V. But if you testify, then you allow yourself to be drawn back into the inquiry," O'Brien said.

"I don't care. As you said, they'd have to be mental to convict me."

"Have you done this before?"

"I think I can manage," I said.

"What will you say?"

"I'll talk about me," I said, ideas springing to my mind. "I make this about me, not Kingsley, or you, Arthur."

"By Merlin, you're right!" exclaimed O'Brien, who then turned to Kingsley. "He's right. Potter should speak. As the Muggles would put it, he's the smoking gun. The ace in the hole. With him, you win."

Yet another secretary entered.

"Sirs, it's time. Council is reconvening shortly."

Magnus gave one more flick of his wand.

The words _TOO CLOSE TO CALL_ appeared in shimmering letters, as the names and columns faded away.

* * *

><p><em>Ginny<em>

Hermione and I returned to our seats in the gallery. Below us, Dad and Kingsley were taking their own seats, as were the Councillors of the Wizengamot.

Magellan stood.

"This Chamber will hear closing statements before the vote is cast. Warlock Shaw, you have indicated that you wish to speak in support of your motion of no confidence in the leadership of this Ministry."

Shaw stood, and tapped his wand to his throat.

"Assembled Councillors. What are we to make of this? What do we make of two men - whom we all respect, who we chose to lead us in the trying times of the war's aftermath? What do we make of them when they betray us? For Operation Wrath of Merlin constitutes nothing less than a betrayal of the most outrageous magnitude!"

"You have listened to, in shock and disbelief - just as I have - the testimony of Minister Shacklebolt and Deputy Minister Weasley."

"For shame, Minister! The way you lied to us all - denying everything to do with Wrath of Merlin, whilst behind our backs, you orchestrated every move of your clandestine Operation. Your ineptitude in dealing with Augustus Rookwood that left close to fifty civilians dead, not to mention Gawain Robards!"

"Centuries of magical law have been swept aside by Minister Shacklebolt's desire for what he considers to be justice. Hundreds of our magical brothers and sisters have been summarily executed without fair trial or presumption of innocence!"

"My fellow Councillors, are we not the safeguard against this tyranny? We must make the Minister answer for what I consider to be grievous crimes against the nation!"

"I implore you: vote Aye! Force the Minister and his Deputy to accept the grave consequences of their actions!"

Magellan rose as Shaw returned to his seat.

"Minister, your closing argument, please."

"I wish to delegate my closing argument to a representative."

"As you wish. Name your representative."

"I call Harry Potter," Kingsley spoke simply.

And then there he was, quiet footsteps tracing a path from one of the entranceways to the main floor of the Wizengamot Chamber itself.

The press looked as if Christmas had come early.

"The Chamber recognises Harry Potter," Magellan's voice rang out.

"Of your own volition, do you wish to speak in the defence of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, and Arthur Weasley, Deputy Minister for Magic?"

"I do."

"The floor, Mr Potter, is yours."

"I'm no great speaker," Harry began. "I did not ask for my fate."

"After the Battle of Hogwarts, Kingsley came to me. He told me words I dreaded to hear. He told me it wasn't over. Hundreds of Tom Riddle's supporters and sympathisers were still out there. They wanted revenge. They wanted me, my friends, all those I loved - they wanted us dead."

Harry pulled out a poster from his robes, and held it up for all to see. The Wizengamot went quiet.

On the poster were the words: _UNDESIRABLE No. 1._

"Not so long ago, this very Chamber publicly denounced me. Like cowards, you did not question why. Where were you, all those months I spent on the run, when I infiltrated the Ministry, and broke in and out of Gringotts? Where were you, when I was captured and imprisoned in Malfoy Manor? A House Elf came to save me. What did the Wizengamot do?"

His voice rang around the Chamber.

"Where were you, when Albus Dumbledore faced his end atop the Astronomy Tower? Where were you when I faced down Tom Riddle? Where were you in the Final Battle?"

"Where were you when Colin Creevy died? He was fourteen years old."

"All my life, I have known fear. Fear, that every day, Voldemort might be waiting for me. Fear for my friends, the people who I love, getting into harms way simply because they know me! That same fear lead me to cut myself off completely, from everybody, whilst I hunted down Dark Wizards from a dingy room in the Department of Mysteries!"

"And that was why I enlisted in Wrath of Merlin. We were vengeance. For every evil they committed, we made them pay with their lives."

"I believe in Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley. I believe that Operation Wrath of Merlin was born from the desire to protect you all. I will not watch these men fall upon their swords because they dared to rid us of the evil that has plagued our nation for over twenty years. "

"So ask yourselves this, before you pass judgement on these men: what if Wrath of Merlin had never happened? What if they were alive today, mobilising, waiting?

"Consider the alternative, and cast your vote."

This time, it took ten minutes to restore order.

* * *

><p>When the press pack and the crowd in the public galleries had finally settled down, the three Presiding Warlocks stood again.<p>

"Mr Potter, your testimony today means that the formal inquiry now extends to you. You must therefore respond to summons for a closed Wizengamot hearing regarding the details of your involvement in Wrath of Merlin. The findings of the hearing could result in criminal or civil charges, and failure to attend the hearing is an offence under the law. Do you accept this?" O'Brien asked.

"Yes."

"I move that Potter be held in custody until the time of his hearing. He represents a significant flight risk," Shaw said.

"Seconded," added one of the witches sitting in the Wizengamot ranks.

"I dissent! Councillors, this is Harry Potter, not some common criminal. Besides," O'Brien added with a grin, "I daresay that if Harry wanted to leave, nothing could really stop him."

Shaw scowled.

"Motion withdrawn."

"Councillors," began Magellan, "I consider the proceedings concluded. Are you in agreement?"

There was a chorus of assent from the Wizengamot.

"Good. Let the vote be cast!"

One by one, each Councillor of the Wizengamot stood and declared their vote.

"Aye!"

"Nay!

"Aye!"

"Aye!"

"Nay!"

I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding in. Beside me, Hermione was muttering under her breath, counting the votes.

As the last few Councillors stood to deliver their votes, she nudged me and held up four fingers.

"Aye!"

"Nay!"

"Nay!"

Magellan stood as the count concluded.

"With a majority of four, the 'Nays' have it. Motion dismissed. The hearing is adjourned."

A great cheer went up around the Chamber for those who supported Kingsley. Shaw had a look of pure disgust on his features, and I saw other Councillors with similar scowls.

I saw Dad exhale slowly as Kingsley gave a grin, relief showing across both their faces.

Harry's own face remained a neutral mask. Whatever he was thinking, it was impossible to tell.

* * *

><p>We returned to The Burrow with Hermione. As we arrived, an impatient-looking Ministry wizard was waiting just outside the ward boundary with a brown package.<p>

"Miss Granger, the Minister for Magic wished you to have this. He sends his regards."

"Thank you," she replied, taking the package from him.

The blue-uniformed wizard nodded and left.

We went up to my room, and Hermione quickly unwrapped it, finding a large purple envelope with a silver seal - Minister's Office - on it. She broke the seal, and pulled out a stack of parchment.

"It's the paperwork from Wrath of Merlin. I sent in a formal request for it after Rookwood attacked the WWN."

"I guess they thought it wouldn't matter any more." Hermione looked down at the page, and I read over her shoulder:

FREEDOM OF INFORMATION REQUEST

REQUESTED BY: Miss GRANGER, HERMIONE JEAN AUTHORITY No: 1101 SOURCE: Dept. Myst, Dept. MLE, AO, OMfM.

THIS DOCUMENT IS UNDER MAGICAL EMBARGO. IT MAY NOT BE COPIED, PUBLISHED, REDISTRIBUTED, OR POSTED. INFRINGEMENT PENALTY: MINIMUM - FIVE YEARS IN AZKABAN | MAXIMUM - LIFE SENTENCE IN AZKABAN FOR TREASON

*TOP SECRET* CLASSIFIED - LEVEL NINE - by order of *********************************** OPERATION WRATH OF MERLIN*********************** ******* **** **************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************** Operation Wrath of Merlin *** ********************************************************************************************************************************************  
>************************************************* Operation Wrath of Merlin *********************************************************************<br>***************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Hermione quickly flicked through the rest of the parchment. Apart from three occurrences of _'Operation Wrath of Merlin'_ on the first page, the entire document was blacked out. "This is ridiculous!" she exclaimed in frustration.

"I guess they thought it did matter after all," I said, looking in the purple envelope.

A small folded piece of parchment sat stuck in the corner. I reached in and pulled it out.

"Here, this was in the envelope."

Hermione opened the parchment. Again I peered over her shoulder.

_Dear Hermione,_

_As requested, the official documents pertaining to Wrath of Merlin. I hope you find them informative._

_I have a great deal of respect and admiration for you and your many talents, but I would kindly ask that you put this matter to rest now._

_Harry has informed me that he would like to show you a selection of his memories. That information should be sufficient to satisfy your curiousity._

_I look forward to presenting your new legislation for the rights of sentient magical creatures to the Wizengamot in the coming days. It is my hope that the new laws can be signed before the commencement of the Death Eater trials._

_As always, my sincere regards,_

_Kingsley_

Hermione gave me a mock serious face, and despite myself, I giggled.

"Please stop meddling, Hermione. It's very annoying that I can't throw you into Azkaban," she said in a mock impression of Kingsley.

"Are you going to stop?"

"I don't seem to have a choice, do I? Besides, it's over anyway. There are more important things to focus on. Like Harry."

"I'm not ready to forgive him for everything he's done, Hermione."

She nodded.

"I understand - but for both your sakes, I hope you do. He needs you."

"Can we not talk about him right now?"

"Okay," she replied softly. "I'm going to find Ron - I think he's starting to feel neglected."

She got up, leaving me to my thoughts.

I made my way into bed. Dropping my head on my pillow, I thought about what lay in front of me. Come Monday morning, I would return to Holyhead and join my teammates for the rest of preseason training.

Despite what I'd said to Hermione, my mind drifted to Harry.

The last I'd seen him, he'd been standing in the Chamber, hands shoved into pockets, his mouth a grim line as he watched the Wizengamot file out in an orderly manner. The press and public had been politely, but firmly asked to leave.

I didn't know what was going to happen to him. What would he do now? Where would he go?

I recalled our conversation by the shore of the Black Lake, and felt only further confusion. He had saved me, but he had also used me as a lure so he could put a score of Death Eaters to the slaughter.

Despite what he had said, the Harry I had fallen in love with was gone.

For now, it was time to move on.

* * *

><p>Kingsley stood before the microphone.<p>

"We're live in a few moments, Minister," someone announced.

A witch moved in front of him, and held up three fingers, then two, then one.

Clearing his throat, Kingsley began.

"_Good evening. Fellow witches and wizards, I am talking to you tonight because I want you all to know the facts._

_When Voldemort took power, we were transformed into a nation more fearful, and as a result, a nation more hostile when he was defeated._

_This is why I created Operation Wrath of Merlin. I enlisted soldiers to fight in a secret war, and chose only the finest: two battle-hardened Unspeakables, and the man who had taken down Voldemort._

_And now, Harry Potter has returned to us all._

_I am not ashamed to tell you that I am proud of what Wrath of Merlin accomplished. Over five hundred supporters of evil are dead or imprisoned as a result of the Operation. The Ministry has more intelligence and information on Dark Wizards today than it has had in two hundred years._

_It was a success. But I was mistaken in not sharing this mission with the Wizarding World. It was an abuse of the power you all entrusted in me._

_The Wizengamot, in their wisdom, have elected to preserve my position as Minister for Magic. I pledge now, that tomorrow you will wake up to a Ministry more open and more honest. We will be a champion of all the ideals we fought for. This I promise you._

_Thank you, and good night."_

"We're out!" yelled the witch.

"Not bad," Magnus remarked.

"Percy Weasley makes a fine speechwriter," Kingsley replied.

"Indeed…I might have to poach him from you at some point."

"Hmm. I daresay he prefers the Minister's Office to that of a Senior Warlock."

"He might prefer doing some _real_ work for a change," Magnus replied with a smirk.

The two men walked down the corridor in comfortable silence.

Reaching the end, Magnus spoke once more.

"My recommendation. Have you given any more thought to it?"

"Gregor thinks it is too early."

"Are you inclined to agree with him?"

"Part of me, yes."

"It is long overdue, Kingsley. He is of a noble house that descends from the Peverells themselves. It is time for Potter to live up to his destiny."

* * *

><p>Long after the members of the Wizengamot had left their seats, and the crowd had been dispersed, and the reporters had rushed to meet their deadlines for the morning's news, Harry Potter stood alone in the Wizengamot Chamber.<p>

The endless blinding flashbulbs had subsided into dim light, the sheer overwhelming noise of it all had given way to silence, and shocked faces had become empty seats.

Neat footsteps made him turn.

It was Kingsley.

Harry nodded in greeting. Kingsley dipped his head in return acknowledgement, then let out a long sigh.

"Hard day at the office?" Harry asked.

"You could say that," Kingsley grimaced.

"So what happens now?"

"I don't know."

"We have to do something…they're still out there, Kingsley. I know they are."

"You really think so?"

"Yes. V wasn't lying. She wanted me to know about the remaining two."

"What would you have me do? Would you have Wrath of Merlin continue?"

"No. We have to do it differently now. Hell, _Merlin_ did alright. We took some of them - more than just some - with us at least - but look what it's cost! X and Y are both dead, Arthur's relationship with his family is all but ruined, and nobody trusts you anymore! Your own Ministry nearly kicked you out!"

Kingsley stared at him, impassively. When he replied, his voice was low.

"And what did it cost you, Harry?"

The young man with the jet-black hair and the emerald eyes did not answer.

Kingsley watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought.

"You wanted to be an Auror when you were in school, didn't you?"

"Bit late for that now," Harry replied wryly.

"Not quite. Lead the Aurors. They can answer the threat now. It's about time they go back to doing their job. I need a new Commander. Who better than you?"

"You can't be serious."

"I am. You know as well as I do that we can't just let go everything we've done in the last year."

"But, they're," - Harry gestured around the empty room - "not going to like it. They'll vote you out!"

"_They_ don't have to like it. You're the best man for the job. And I survived one vote today, I'm sure I can survive another if necessary. I still have a few friends here."

"I don't know the first thing about running the Auror Office!"

"Neither did I when Scrimgeour gave me the job. You'll learn quickly."

"You were already an Auror!"

"You just spent a year doing five times as much as any Auror."

"But, I…at least let me think about it," Harry replied, suddenly flustered.

"Fair enough. Take some time to consider it."

Kingsley began to walk out of the Chamber. Before he disappeared from sight, he stopped and turned.

"I'll see you Monday morning. Eight o'clock sharp, my office."

And then he was gone, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

After a few minutes, Harry too, donning his Invisibility Cloak once again, left the Chamber, exiting through the lantern-lit passageway.

He headed to his room in the Department of Mysteries. He arrived to find that the walls were now bare, and his trunk lay packed on his bed. The message was clear: the Department of Mysteries was a place he could no longer consider a home.

It was well and truly over.

Changing into regular clothing, the thought crossed his mind that he'd need to find somewhere to stay. Maybe Tom would give him a room at the Leaky Cauldron. But of course, he wouldn't get a moment's peace there. He didn't even know if he'd be welcome.

Muggle London, then.

Wheeling his trunk outside, Harry extinguished the lights with a flick of his wand.

He closed the door behind him with an audible _click. _He wasn't surprised when he tried to open it again, to find that it was now locked to him.

The Department of Mysteries was still that: a mystery.

Leaving the Ministry of Magic quickly, Harry, only a few minutes later, arrived on the streets of London, just another commuter amongst thousands out late.

His trunk clattering along the cobblestones behind him, Harry, alone, made his way into the night.

_And what did it cost you, Harry?_

The words rang in his head as he walked along Oxford Street. The lights flashed, and he stopped, waiting at the crossing as cars slowly rolled past. With his voice a quiet murmur that only he could hear, he answered aloud:

"Her."

"It cost me her."

* * *

><p>In the end, Operation Wrath of Merlin was a war much like any other.<p>

There were those who profited.

There were those who suffered.

There were those who were devoured.

And then there are those for whom there are no words.

**THE END**

* * *

><p>AN: Thus concludes _Wrath of Merlin_…well, not quite. This is not the end, but rather the conclusion to Act I.

As the story shaped over the last couple of years that I've spent writing it, it became more and more apparent that _Wrath of Merlin_ has a logical endpoint.

But Harry and Ginny's story is of course, far from over, and so there'll be an Act II: a new story called _Auror Commander._

_Auror_ _Commander_ picks up directly where _Merlin_ ends, and covers Harry's return to the Ministry as part of the Auror Office, the beginning of Ginny's career with the Holyhead Harpies, and - I promise - their reconciliation. It's long overdue.

And to thank you all for sticking with me and _Wrath of Merlin_ - and to encourage you all to follow _Auror_, I've just posted the first chapter - which can of course, be found on my profile page.


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